Meaningless, the 998th Hunger Games
by Josephm611
Summary: "Everything is meaningless." Victory is meaningless. Death is meaningless. Life is meaningless. Or is it? As Panem rapidly gets close to a new era, the Gamemakers are planning a new Games. However, little do they know that the outcome of this year's Games will impact Panem forever. Closed SYOT.
1. Prologue

**A/N Welcome one, welcome all to my new SYOT! I'm just putting this up so that I won't have to wait for forever before starting this story. So if you submit, please follow this story. That way you'll know when I actually start writing it. Now, each chapter has to have a story to make it legal, so here goes.**

 _ **Romulus Snow, President of Panem**_

Year 998 ADD, After the Dark Days. 997 years of Hunger Games. Now, it's only a matter of weeks before the Reapings begin all over the country. People are already preparing themselves for the celebrations that going to happen, and the Gamemaker team is busy. I smile. They don't know.

The phone on my desk rings. My secretary.

"Yes?"

" _Head Gamemaker Maximius is here to see you."_

"Send him up."

Soon, the door creaks open, and Maximius Ryene stands before me. He's a man in his fifties with a good build. Smart and loyal. But this isn't why I gave him the position. He's sane, and after decades of insane Gamemakers, I appreciate this.

"Sir," he says, taking a bow, "The arena is done. Would you like to see it?"

Now, there are some parts of this position that I like. Meeting with the rulers of other nations, for example. Being able to give my sister's granddaughter what she wants for her birthday is another perk. But seeing arena plans? Not so much.

"Go ahead," I say, sitting up straight.

He begins to describe the arena, a huge swamp full of mutts and abandoned houses.

"-not the most original, but people was to see something normal," he finishes.

"Good."

He knows that I don't enjoy this, so he leaves the room. I walk to the window and look down at the people below, partying and drinking. They think they know what lies ahead of them. They think that life will always be this way.

But I know that it won't.

And because of this, I smile.

 **General Rules:**

 **1\. If you have an account, you must submit through PM. If you're a guest, email me with your submission (my email is on my profile). Only review with the submission if you can't do that. Please, review is a last resort.**

 **2\. Fill in every part of the form unless I clearly state that it is optional. Yes, even the faceclaim. By the way, if you haven't realized it, the form is on my profile.**

 **3\. Submit as many as you want, but only two will be accepted at most.**

 **4\. Read and follow the tips and guidelines on the form. Yes, they are VERY important.**

 **5\. This isn't a rule, but I'm putting it here, since it will save you a lot of trouble. FIND THE FACECLAIM FIRST. This is the most inflexible part of the form, so finding this first will make your life a whole lot easier.**

 **6\. This isn't a rule either, but I'll put it here. The form seems like it is missing things. That's because it is. I am giving myself more power in this SYOT to tweak and change tributes.**

 **7\. Third non-rule! Please Review! It'll give your tribute a better chance of surviving because I want my readers to see their characters last longer.**

 **Good luck! Goodbye! (upside-down"!") Adios!** **再见** **!**

 ** **~Joseph****


	2. The Tributes

**A/N Happy New Year! New Year = New SYOT! The tributes have been selected! Just for those people who want to know what happened to our beloved canon characters (and to make this legal), here is more info on what has happened since the 74** **th** **Games!**

 _ **Katniss, Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen**_

Katniss died in the bloodbath, killed by Clove's knife as she fought the Nine Male for an orange backpack. Mrs. Everdeen, however, did keep her promise. She took the medicine and continued with life like she had to. Prim grew up and took over the apothecary business.

 _ **Peeta Mellark**_

Once Peeta saw that Katniss was dead, he lost hope. He persisted until the final eight, where he was brutally ripped apart by Careers for taking their spotlight.

 _ **Haymitch Abernathy**_

During the 89th Games, Haymitch suggested that JSon Walkman, District Three tribute and son of a mentor, play the star-crossed lovers angle again. They succeeded, but the rebellion that ensued did not. District Thirteen pulled out, and Peacekeepers stormed District Twelve. With no way out, Haymitch killed himself.

 _ **Effie Trinket**_

In short, Effie lived the life she always wanted to. After two decades in Twelve, she finally earned herself a victor and was promoted to Nine. Still unhappy, she persisted and didn't give up. When she retired at the age of 60, she was escort for District Four.

 _ **Johanna Mason**_

Johanna jumped on with JSon's rebellion, but went things took a turn for the worst, she let the Capitol take her. She then used every opportunity to laugh at them, getting by their security and killing her guards. She died laughing.

 _ **Plutarch Heavensbee**_

After Seneca Crane stepped down during the 86th Games, Plutarch took his place. He jumpstarted the rebellion of the 89th, but this was his undoing. He was captured by Peacekeepers immediately after the victor announcement, and he was never heard from again.

 _ **Finnick Odair**_

Like Johanna, Finnick joined the rebels at first chance, gaining the support of Four. However, because he was afraid for Annie, he was also one of the first to die, sacrificing himself for a captured Annie.

 _ **Annie Cresta**_

After Finnick's death, Annie snapped. No one could ever bring her back, and she became known as the "Lunatic of District Four."

 _ **Beetee Latier**_

Beetee, as frail as he looked, was highly involved in the rebellion of the 89th. He was taken along with the rest of the District Three victors, and he was executed for being a Three victor. He passed his secrets down to a rebel group in Three, and a few of his plans survive to this day.

 **Tribute List:**

D1M: Imperial Gallium, 18

D1F: Aria Sierra, 17

D2M: Androcles Diorite, 17

D2F: Aemilia Concordia Melanite, 18

D3M: Digit Fuse, 18

D3F: Pixel Lockdell, 17

D4M: Creek Langston, 18

D4F: Naia Whyte, 18

D5M: Chase Arclight, 16

D5F: Elysia Veton, 17

D6M: Aleczander "Zander" Ford, 18

D6F: Sonic Wheel, 15

D7M: Alder Blackthorn, 16

D7F: Arden Caville, 18

D8M: Zash Kamzoil, 15

D8F: Button Davenport, 15

D9M: Senwe Baric, 17

D9F: Diara Hulston, 16

D10M: Angus Derwin, 16

D10F: Star Vexbleuten, 17

D11M: Hirst Arum, 17

D11F: Magnolia Beaux, 17

D12M: Amos Breckenridge, 13

D12F: Jessamine Hale, 14

 **A/N I'm sorry if yours was rejected, but there wasn't much I could do. I had over 28 unique submitters.**

 **The blog is at meaningless998thg. blogspot. com**

 **A blog review would be nice. :)**

 **~Joseph**


	3. District One Non-Reapings

**A/N Yay! The story is finally beginning! I will not write any reapings; I find them boring to write and repetitive. Instead, I will go district by district and write about a day before the reapings. Sound good? Let's start!**

 _ **Imperial Gallium, 18, District One Male**_

Waking up is an interesting experience. First, that blessed peace rolls away, and you're hit with the realization that the world isn't in a quiet trance. Then, you feel the

temperature, and after that, the warm blankets. Finally, the light persuades you to open your eyes.

That's how it should be. Waking up should be quiet, pleasant, and peaceful. Not loud, disruptive, and-

I open my eyes and fling my pillow at my sixteen-year-old brother. "Duke! Seriously! Can't you give a man some time to adjust?"

The pillow flies past him, barely missing the lamp on the table beside the window. He rolls his eyes and smiles. "Did I hear you say 'man'? Where is he?"

"If you had eyes you would be able to see.

He looks around in mock awe. "Oh, I see. Why thank you. I believe it's me."

"You're such a nuisance."

"You wish you could believe that."

I rub my eyes. "Fine, I don't." I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom, slapping him on the back as I pass him.

"What was that for?"

I smile at him and close the door. Here's another day. The sun is shining, the birds are probably out there singing, and I will be training. I've trained for so long; I can't wait until-

It's today.

I quickly wash up and go downstairs. My mother is finishing with the dishes, and my sister Duchess is setting the table. Yes, it's today. Since she's married and moved out, Duchess only eats with us on special occasions. My mother looks me up and down.

"You look excited today," she comments, rubbing me on the shoulder.

"Why shouldn't I?" I say, "The matches are today! This could be the greatest day of my life."

"I'm sure you'll be chosen," she says, "But you better eat first. We wouldn't want you to go in unprepared. Your father got called to the office this morning. He wanted to be here, but you know him."

"It really is no problem. "

"Then let's eat."

I sit down and prepare to start eating, and I feel a tug at my shirt. When I look down, I see my little nephew Platinum, playing with a little toy sword. He doesn't know anything yet, he's only two.

"Hey," I say, ruffling his hair. He says something and hits me with the sword.

"You're going to be big and strong someday," I say, sitting him on my lap, "And you'll volunteer for the… the… 1014th Hunger Games. Then we'll be Victors together, won't we. And you'll make your mother so proud."

I tickle him, and he squirms and laughs.

"Now I've got to eat," I say, "I'm going to the matches later, so I can't keep talking." I put him down, and he runs to Duchess. When I go into the Games, I'll really miss him.

When I finish my breakfast, I take my plate and bring it to the sink.

"I'll stop by the office and see father before I go to the Training Center," I tell my mother, who's washing the dishes.

"Oh good, remind him to meet with Mr. Sierra to discuss the new store," she says.

"I will," I say, opening the front door, "I'll be back for dinner. "

I hear a round of "Bye"s and "Good luck"s, and I'm off. I first jog to my father's office. District One seems festive this morning. Everything is up and running as normal, but the colors seem brighter, the sounds seem happier, and the air smells sweeter. That last one may be because I'm going by a candy-maker's shop.

Soon, I'm standing before the tower that is our pride and joy. The golden "Agau" engraved on the sign shines in the morning sunlight, and it looks amazing. Father just got it replaced last week. I walk through the double-doors and greet the receptionist. The lobby is covered in posters of our products, and in a few display cases lie rings and necklaces. They're so high-quality, Capitolians have traveled here just to get first pick.

I walk up the stairs and knock on the door to father's office.

"Come in," he calls. When I open the door, he gets up and gives me a hug. "Are you on your way to the Center?"

"Yes," I say, "I wanted to stop by. Mother told me to remind you to meet with Mr. Sierra."

"Thank you. I have a lot of paperwork, so I have to get back to it. Good luck."

He pats me on the back, and I leave the company headquarters. I look at my wristwatch, and I see that it's about 10. Must be on my way. I jog past the Sierra mall. They've just finished building a new wing, and my father's been trying to get in for a long time. I hear that Mr. Sierra's daughter is trying out in the matches this year. She's been pampered all her life; I wonder how it will turn out.

When I get to the center, there's a small crowd. Ever since organized sports here became a thing, the number of people trying to gain the right to volunteer has shrunk. Not necessarily good for District One, but it's good for me. I have a higher chance of being chosen as one of the twelve possible volunteers.

I feel a tap on the shoulder. I turn around, and I see my friend Topaz.

"Hey!" he says, "How's it going?"

"I- I can't wait. Where'd Diadem?" I say. Diadem is his girlfriend, and I was sure she'd be here to watch Topaz's match.

"She should be here any minute. She said she had something to work on. I hope she'll be back soon."

"I'm sure she will," I say, "Hey, did you watch the soccer game last night?"

"Of course I did! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Who won? I had a late night training session."

"Of course we beat the Two scumbags. It was 8 to 7."

"I was just thinking, you know, when I'm victor, I might make that my talent."

"What? Late night training sessions?"

"What do you think? Soccer!"

He barely has time to laugh before our conversation is cut off by the Head Trainer, Regal Ametist. He tests the microphone and begins to speak.

"Welcome, trainees to the matches. You will be put against one of your fellow trainees, and you win fight until one concedes or the judges deem the battle over. Each of you will be awarded points based on your performance. The final twelve will be allowed to volunteer."

Everyone applauds, and he begins reading the names for the boys.

"Topaz Lasia and Prime Crims."

Topaz nods, and with a smile, he walks to the doors of the Center, where he'll be fighting Prime.

"Imperial Gallium and Jacques Carta."

Carta. The name seems familiar. I push my way through to the front of the crowd, where a tall, muscular eighteen-year-old is waiting.

"I assume you are Jacques?" I say. He smiles proudly.

"The one and only. And you are Imperial?"

"Who else? Do I know you? Carta…. it rings a bell."

"Your family operates Agau, correct?"

"Yes, we do," I say. Oh… That's where I've heard his name.

"Then I'm your competitor. My family runs Carta's Jewelers."

I look sideways at him as we're led into the Center and to a room where we'll be fighting. We're allowed to do anything but cause life-threatening wounds, but that won't be much of a problem since the weapons are all blunt. The Cartas. Always flaunting their wealth. Oh, I'll enjoy this. This gives me an excuse to knock him out.

"Begin!"  
I narrow my eyes at my opponent, who wields a sword. I hold my spear in a defensive position; I prefer to let my opponents make the first move.

"Don't take it seriously if you lose, you know?" Jacques mocks, "There's always opportunity in business. Then again, who knows? We'd probably beat you there."

 _Taunt all you want_ , I think. I'm on the shorter side, only 5'9", so he probably underestimates me. In this case, it's an advantage. Seeing that his mockery isn't affecting me, he advances.

"Let's start with the basics," he says. He makes little teasing pokes at me with the sword before coming in for the kill. I deflect the sword with my spear, and I respond with a strike of my own. He's taken off guard, so I pursue it. Some might say that it's dishonorable to do so, but when you're in the Games, the Capitol won't care whether you played fair or not. It just wants you to win. So I press on. I tilt the spear sideways and grip it with two hands, using it as a staff. With a few easy spins, he is disarmed. I grab the sword and bring it down on his head again and again. Because it's blunt, it works as a club. He's knocked out.

I bow and leave. Time for my next round.

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female**_

It's been a long day of battling and fighting. I stand outside the Justice Building with everyone else-that is, everyone except those in the hospital. The final matches are almost over. We all have to wait.

"Do you think you made it?" Sabrina, sitting beside me, asks.

"I don't know," I answer, "I'm not sure I want to."

"Why not? Isn't this what you train for?"

"Yeah, but there's so much in the world to do. My dad talked to Mr. Gallium this morning about the arrangements for a new Agau branch in our mall. The new wing is huge, and it's just amazing. Just seeing that power and control in management makes me want to do it."

"Do you think you could do that? It also requires interior design experience and stuff like that. Sounds like more school than I ever want."

"I'm sure I could do it if I really believed I could."

"What if you get picked to volunteer?"

"Then I'll do it," I say, "The Capitol has given us so much. If I get picked, then it's my duty to try my best in volunteering and the Games."

"Wow."

"Do you think you'll make it in?" I ask.

"I hope I did. I don't have to be the one on stage, but if I don't even get picked, my family will be so disappointed. "

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you did just as well as I did."

The female Head Trainer, Venus Sultensky, begins to speak into a microphone. We all turn to look at her.

"The twelve approved volunteers have been selected!"

There's a round of applause, and a boy hoots.

"I am here representing the panel of judges for the females. The approved volunteers are… first of all, Diva Corient!"

Diva. It's no surprise she made it. She's strong, beautiful, but most of all, mean. She steps up and smirks as they place a medal around her neck.

"Second, Columbia Thace!"

Another girl steps up to receive her medal. Name after name are read.

"Ninth, Sabrina Esmerald!"

Sabrina's eyes go wide.

"You made it!" I say, "I told you!"

She walks up to the stage, her eyes gleaming with happiness. Two more names go by. Please don't let it be me; it'd make everything complicated. Not me, not me, not-

"Lastly, Aria Sierra!"

It's me. I've been chosen by the judges, so this is an official summon from the Capitol. I smile and stride up to the stage, where I'm given a medal.

"Give them a round of applause!"

Then, the male Head Trainer begins reading the names of the boys. There's Triton Paine. I remember duping him back in eighth grade. A few more familiar faces go by; quite a few of them are ones I used to know well. Finally, Imperial Gallium is called up. Oh, he's a threat. Unlike some of the other boys, he'll do anything to get what he needs, using the ends to justify the means. I won't be surprised if he ends up being the one on stage on the day of the Reaping.

After a few more formalities, we are dismissed. Sabrina is still overjoyed when I find her.

"I can't believe it!" she says, "I- I actually made it!"

"Don't be so surprised! " I say.

"Let's go get something to drink or something. Your mall is open, right?"

We end up going to a small cafe in my dad's Sierra mall, where we both order drinks.

"So you were chosen," Sabrina says, "What're you going to do? Didn't you not want to get picked?"

"Yeah, I didn't," I say, staring at the striped brown wallpaper.

"So any plans?"

"I'm going to volunteer."

"Why? There are twelve of us. No one will notice if you don't volunteer. "

"You don't understand," I say, "This is duty. The Capitol has given us a lot of grace. The least I can do is do my best in everything it wants me to do."

She shrugs. "Sure."

Soon, she goes home for dinner and I do too. The moment I walk in the door, Ava, my younger sister, is begging me for details. Alvis, my eight-year-old brother, gives me a hug. My parents are overjoyed. Alexander, my other brother, looks concerned, but he hides it and smiles and laughs with everyone else.

 _Can we talk later?_ , I mouth to him. He nods.

After dinner, my mom brings out a cake. Everyone's so happy; I don't think anyone realizes that I'm not. The reality of going into the Hunger Games is hitting me at full force, and I'm not that sure I can do this. I look at Alvis, and he stares at me with admiring eyes. I look away.

Soon, I sit on my bed. I can't sleep. Alex should be here soon; we talk whenever stuff like this happens. There's a knock on the door.

"Come in," I say.

"Hey," he says, "What's up." He silently shuts the door behind him and pulls a chair out from my desk.

"I don't know if I can do this," I say.

"Volunteer?"

"Yeah. I know I should. I know it's my duty, and I saw the looks on everyone else's faces. They're excited for me, Alex."

"How do you feel?"

"I'd rather take over the mall, honestly. I've always wanted that. But-"

"Then don't volunteer."

I blink. Am I hearing him correctly? "But- But-"

"Then don't. If you don't volunteer, mom and dad will understand."

"I have to do it, though! It's my duty to District One, the Capitol, and my trainers. "

"Then volunteer."

"What should I do? You're not helping."

"Do whatever you feel is right. That's all I'm saying."

"Then I'll volunteer."

He smiles. "I thought you'd say that." All of a sudden, I get what he was doing. He was just helping me sort out my thoughts by getting me to verbalize them.

"Thanks so much," I say. I go to him and hug him, and he smiles and yawns.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," he says, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I reply. He leaves the room.

I'm going to do it. I'm going to volunteer. I've been put into a game I originally didn't want to play. But now that I'm in, I'm going to win.

I don't lose.

 **A/N What do you think of our first tributes?**

 **1\. What do you think of Imperial's personality? How will it come into play?**

 **2\. What can you see about Aria's mindset and personality? Is it good or bad?**

 **3\. Which one do you like more?**

 **4\. After seeing the blog, who are you waiting for?**

 **Because of the length of these chapters and school starts tomorrow for me, my schedule may slow down. School comes first, sorry. Also, I won't be replying in chapter anymore. I'll try to respond to questions through PM.**

 **Thank you to Red Roses, ChoolateChipHomocide, and santiago. poncini20 for doing blog reviews!**

 **See you in District Two!**

 **~Joseph**


	4. District Two Non-Reapings

**A/N I know, I'm only updating once per week. That twice per week schedule isn't going to work with these longer chapters.**

 **AND OMG 13 REVIEWS? That's huge for me. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH. Can we get to 24? You don't have to review, I guess... But if you submitted a character and don't review, you give me a good idea of who's okay to kill early.**

 **Androcles** _ **Diorite, 17, District Two Male**_

I open one eye, and then I open the other. I push off my covers and stretch. Today's the day.

I go into the bathroom, wash my face, and stare at my reflection. I may not be the bulkiest or tallest trainee, but that doesn't me that I can't beat the rest of my competition. It's about time _I_ was the one recognized.

When I go downstairs, my father doesn't say anything. He knows that I'm doing the sessions today, but he also knows that as much as he discourages it, he can't stop me. I'm going to do it. No one is going to take away my chance at glory.

My mother is excited for me; it's about time she gave me this kind of attention. She's always given me attention—in the form of blame. She had trouble during childbirth, and when my aunt came to help deliver my sister and I, she was executed for leaving her post. But just because Hermia came out first by ten minutes, I get the blame. I begin to pick at my eggs. Hermia looks up from her breakfast, and she smiles.

"Morning."

I grunt a reply.

"Hey, don't be so grumpy. Today's the sessions. I thought that I'd see you excited today. "

"I guess so."

I sit down and begin to eat.

"Do you have any plans for this morning?" I ask.

"No, not really. Why?"

"Just curious." I take another spoonful of oatmeal.

"Do you have any plans?" she asks.

"I think I'll go to the Training Center. It can't hurt to get a few hours in before the sessions."

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to. What'll you do there? You aren't a trainee."

"You might need it."

"No I won't. I'll be fine."

"I'm coming anyway," she insists.

"Fine, go ahead. I won't need it though."

She goes back to her food, muttering something about "getting the last word in everything." I pretend not to notice.

Pretty soon, I'm out of the house and on my way to the Training Center, Hermia beside me.

"You didn't have to come," I say.

"You mean, you don't want me to come."

"No, it's not that."

"Then what do you mean? Every time, you day again and again that I don't have to go with you."

"Why won't you leave me alone sometimes? "

"Look," she reasons, "I know you. You're prone to… acting on impulse. "

"But that doesn't mean you have to follow me around. I'll be fine."

"I'm still coming."

"Fine," I say. I kick a pebble, and it rolls into the gutter. I look up, and I see that we're already at the doors of the Training Center. I look at Hermia, but she doesn't show any sign of changing her mind. Oh well. She'll see. I walk into the building and into the main Training Room, and I see that it's surprising empty. There are a few people here and there, a girl at the swords, a boy at the knives (He's still got another year before being eligible for volunteering), but the axes are open. I guess it's my lucky day.

Hermia sits down on a bench by the wall and pulls out a book to read, but I go to the axes. I pick one of them up and feel the smooth metal head. I turn in in my hands, and it reflects the light coming in from windows in the ceiling. I run and throw it into the target. Bullseye. I remove it before I throw another one; last time I forgot to, I split the previous axe. I turn towards the human dummies.

"Right leg, left leg, right arm, left arm," I mutter, "heart, neck, and head. Next."

I turn to the next dummy and repeat. And repeat. When I've used every dummy, I go up to them and pull out the axe. As I pull one out of a head, I hear a whoosh and feel something fly by my head. A knife sticks out of the dummy's head.

I whip around, and I see the guy who is at the knives, holding a set of daggers. I glare at him. He smiles at me.

"What do you want," I ask.

He shrugs. "Just some competition."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Are you a challenge?"  
What's that supposed to mean, am I a challenge. Who does he think he is? Does he really think I'm think weak? I stalk up to him. "Don't insult me."

He narrows his eyes. "Insult? Haven't you heard of listening? I said-"

I grab his shirt. How dare he. "Shut your mouth. You better watch your words."

"So you're threatening me now, huh? I expected more from… huh. Your mother's right. You do only cause trouble wherever you go."

That is the last straw. He can insult me, but that is a low blow, bringing up my past. I feel anger coursing through my veins. I throw him to the ground, but he quickly gets back up. I charge at him, but he's ready with his knives. Thankfully, they're not real. I pin him to the ground, but he maneuvers his way out of my grip. I punch him, but he rolls to the side. I can't let him get away with this. He tries to get up, and I tackle him.

All of a sudden, someone grabs me from behind, and the boy is pulled away from me. I force my way out from my sister's grip.

"Let's go," she commands.

"No. I can't leave this unfinished."

"You can. Besides, what were you thinking!? He said, 'Is that a challenge,' not 'Are you a challenge'! This is why I had to come with you!"

Humiliated, I pull away from her and leave the Training Center. When I win the Games, everyone will see that I'm capable. I'm not a little kid that needs to be watched. I'm not the blight on the family name.

I am Androcles Diorite.

And I will not be looked down on.

 _ **Aemelia Concordia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

I sit on a bench in the park outside the Training Center . It's quite a nice day. The sky is almost cloudless, with few wisps gliding by. The trees are lush and green, and birds rest on the branches, chirping and singing. I'd be here all day if I could, but that's not an option. I look over to my right, where Liber is messing with his soccer ball, which he carries practically everywhere. He kicks it up, but it goes the wrong way and rolls off to the side. He curses under his breath, which makes Tiburtius smile. Tiburtius flips the page of his book, reads something, and makes a note in the margin. Amethyst, bored of watching him, gets up and sits down beside me.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, "You know, the sessions today?"

"A little," I answer,"But not too much. I've worked hard; if I'm good enough, I'll be chosen. If I'm not, I won't. Plain and simple." I try my best to hide the edge in my voice. Failure can't be an option.

"If only life were that simple," she says. She sighs. "I tried out for the figure skating team, and I thought I did okay. But then I saw some of my competition, and now, I'm not so sure."

"Don't worry about it," I say, "You'll make it in. I know how much you've practiced. You're definitely making it in."

"That's only because I had the best trainer in the District. Can you tell your mom thank you for me again?"

"C'mon," I say, "She knows you're thankful. You've told her about a million times."

She just smiles and looks at the ground. All of us have something we do. Amethyst skates. Tiburtius studies politics. With his way with words, he'll be governor someday. That is, if he learns to keep his sailor's mouth shut. Liber plays soccer. My brother Jocelyn looks up to him. As for me, I train. Skating and politics and sports are all nice, but the ultimate form of success, to me, is victory in the Hunger Games. Grandfather was told me stories of the Victors of old and how they brought glory to our district, making us the most feared and respected. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to continue the Melanite family tradition of success and glory.

Liber sits down beside us, twirling the soccer ball on his finger.

"You heard about the game last night, right?" Amethyst asks him.

He furrows his brow. "Yeah, I did. F*ck those b*tches from One. Someday, I'm gonna kick their *sses."

I lean back and breathe in the fresh air. The bell at the Training Center rings. It's time.

"There's the bell," I say as I stand up.

"Good luck."

I walk through a grove of fruit trees, and I enter the Training Center. Mostly everyone is already here, and everyone else is coming in. Like every year, a Capitol representative is standing to the side, and I'm pretty sure we're the only district with that honor. They play the Panemian anthem, and we all stand and sing. Afterwards, the representative takes the mic and begins to say all the cliché things they say every year. He's dressed in a purple robe, and to be perfectly honest, it's ridiculous. Bright sequins are attached to it, and he says something about it representing the brilliant jewels found deep underground. I barely stifle my laughter.

Sometimes I wonder about the Capitol. The people we see are so ridiculous and shallow, but they've managed to keep control over the districts for almost a millennium. I don't know how they took control in the first place. But somehow they did, and that's why they deserve our respect. Not the individuals per se, but the Capitol as the government.

The man finishes his speech, and we prepare to begin the sessions. Because of the large number of trainees and aspiring volunteers, there are twelve judges. Still, we won't know the results until tonight. Name after name is called. Even with so many judges, it takes forever to get through everyone. At lunch, we take a short break, but we come right back. Late in the afternoon, after almost everyone has gone, I hear my name.

"Aemilia Concordia Melanite. Room 5."

I look around. Room 5… Room 5…

I walk through the door, and when I enter, I see that it's one of the rooms with one-way glass. The four cold wall create a room, holding a variety of weapons and dummies. I inevitably begin tapping my foot. These next few moments could determine my life. I can't fail. I can't fail. A speaker in the wall emits crackling, static noises.

"Aemilia Concordia Melanite. ID number 998133115," I say.

Someone on the other side clears his throat. "You may begin, Ms. Melanite."

The first part of the sessions is modeled after the Gamemaker sessions before the Games. However, the judges here know what to look for, unlike the Gamemakers. I pick up a sword and begin hacking away at the dummies. Splinters of wood and wads of stuffing fall onto the floor as the sharp metal blade cuts through the skin. Finally, I back away to the other side of the room and throw the sword, thrusting it forward like a spear or javelin. It impales the last dummy, burying itself up to the hilt.

That was the easy part. Anyone can do that. I'm not even sweating. Now begins part two. The door opens, and one of the sword trainers walks in, holding two blunt swords. He hands me one and nods for me to begin.

I take the initiative; the first strike is crucial. I go straight for the neck, but he blocks and strikes back. I don't bother to block, instead opting to dodge the attack. I take opportunity of his vulnerable position and attack from behind. He rolls to the side, dodging my swing, and he moves in close. I back away slightly and twist to the side. I then attack his sword with the flat end of my sword, forcing him back. I move in for the kill, pushing against him and tapping his neck with the edge of my blade. Done.

He smiles and leaves. After him, I fight two more trainers, one with two daggers and one with a spear.

By the end of my session, I'm sweating and gasping for breath. I leave the Training Center and sit on the steps, where everyone is waiting.

"Hey, how did it go?"

I look up, and I see Amethyst. She sits down. "I think it went well. I'll get the spot if I deserve it. Where did Tiburtius and Liber go?"

"Their hanging out down there," she says pointing to a bunch of guys lounging around a tree, "Hey, I think the results are out."

The bell begins to ring, and I stand up. "Then let's go."

We're some of the first to enter the building, so we stand near the front. When everyone has entered, the escort begins to read the selected names, starting with us girls.

"Korrina Sidon." One of the upper-class trainees smiles and walks up to the front. I highly doubt she'll end up being the one volunteering. She has so much at stake here in Two.

"Aemilia Concordia Melanite." Even though I told myself that I wouldn't be surprised I find myself jumping at my name. I walk up to the stage where a gray medallion. It's made of smooth stone, which represents all our hard work. In Two, if you volunteer without having the medallion, the actual volunteers are free to do whatever they want with your family. Just a small form of payback.

I don't pay attention to the other names. Now that I've been chosen, I don't need to know the other girls. It won't help me much.

On the other hand, I pay attention to the boys, my possible district partners. Cornelius Terra is called. He's got a reputation for being quiet and underestimated. Androcles Diorite is the only 17-year-old. He's either exceptionally skilled, extremely motivated, or both.

As soon as the ceremony is over, I'm overwhelmed by Amethyst.

"Ohmygosh I knew you would be picked!" she exclaims, "Congratulations! How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly happy," I admit, "But I really can't wait to see Grandfather's expression when I tell him."

-~oO0Oo~-

Night is falling, and I push open the door to my house. The wood floors are clean and shining, and the tapestries are warm in the yellowish light. My father chose to become a blacksmith when he was younger, and he's excelled in it, becoming one of the top ones in the district. That's the only reason we can afford such a house. As soon as I close the door, my twin brother Remus comes into the front room.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

"Perfect. I- Wait, you already know how it went! It's been on TV for a few hours!" I laugh, and he smiles with that perpetual twinkle in his eye.

"You have no idea how proud grandfather is of you," he says.

"Yeah. I suppose that since he's a victor, he's always wanted us to follow in his footsteps," I say.

"I know, but I'm happy learning under father," he says, "I'm not cut out for training. I'd make too much…" He pauses, smirking. "trouble."

"Oh come on," I say, laughing, "Where's everyone else?"

"At the dinner table. C'mon."

We go into the dining room, where everyone else is sitting. My parents hug me, and as I feel my mother's perfectly smooth hands and my father's strong, sinewy arms, I truly feel happy. Even Jocelyn is out of snarky jokes; this is a first for him. Grandfather is at the head of the table in his rocking chair. I go over to him and wrap him in a hug.

"I did it, Grandfather," I say.

"I expected nothing less, " he says, with a perfectly straight face. but then, he breaaks his shell and smiles his warmest smile. "But I'm proud of you all the same." I've never seen him so happy.

I've worked hard enough for this. I've earned my spot. I've made my family proud. I have to win the Games. I can't fail.

I can't let my family down.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. How does Androcles compare to what you expected? Is that good or bad?**

 **2\. Were your predictions about Aemilia correct? What can you see about her view on life? How do you feel about it?**

 **3\. What roles will the two play? Excited about seeing them more? Which one do you like more?**

 **4\. These are the last two standard Careers. Which one of the four is your favorite?**

 **5\. To the submitters: Did I do a good job of writing them?**

 **District Three is up! Excited? Hope to hear from y'all (yes, I just used y'all).**

 **~Joseph**


	5. District Three Non-Reapings

**A/N Hello (from the other side)! Sorry, I couldn't resist the song reference. A faster update! Yay! Here are the D3s.**

 **Also, some of you haven't given me the full forms… If you are one of those people, please finish the form. You know who you are.**

 _ **Digit Fuse, 17, District Three Male**_

 _The reaped girl walks up on stage, crying the entire way. The escort turns her nose up and picks a name out of the boys' bowl._

" _Digit Fuse."_

I sit up in my bed, panting and gasping for breath. Calm down, calm down, calm down. It was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. I look over at the calendar hanging on the worn-out walls. Still two weeks until the Reaping. Most people don't begin to think about it until the day or two before, but in our family, the Capitol and their sadistic Games always hang over us like a perpetual dark cloud. What did we do to make them target us?

Strips of light are coming through the cracks of our boarded-up window. My dad has already gone to work, and his bed is neatly made.

I roll out of bed and onto the hard concrete floor. I walk to the small side bathroom, which holds only a sink and a toilet, and wash my face. I go back to my bed and get dressed for work. I've completed the basic education requirements, so I left as soon as I could. With our financial situation, we don't have the time to spend that much time and money in school.

I look at the curtain that partitions our one large bedroom into two rooms. On this side, my father, my younger sister Flux, and I sleep, and my mother lives on the other side. She won't let us in without protective gear, but we can hear her coughing and wheezing. The doctors say it's tuberculosis. We know that's it's also from a broken heart.

I look at Flux, sleeping soundly in her bed on the other side of the room. She's only nine; she shouldn't have to worry about death and the Games. She stirs in her sleep, she about to get up. I go into our other room and look in the pantry. There's a bit of oatmeal left, so I add some water and start cooking it on the stove. We're almost out of food, but since my paycheck comes in today, we should be fine.

"Is that oatmeal?"

I look to the door, and I see Flux, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah, it's oatmeal," I say, "Did you sleep well?"

She yawns. "Not really."

"Bad dreams?"

"Yeah." I place a bowl of oatmeal on the table, but she runs to me and hugs me. "You won't get reaped, will you?"

"I'll try not to," I say. I joke, only because the alternative can't be an option. Being my family, I might get reaped. First it was Laanya, reaped so many years ago. Then Dem suffered the same fate. After that, my dad lost his job. Little Bolt starved to death. And that's all why Techa left home. She still claims that mom is a witch, leading to our bad luck. I think she's in a place for mental people now. Dad found another job soon after, but by then, it was too late. Now it's another year with another Hunger Games, and if our luck keeps up, I'll be going in. Who do Capitolians think they are? Who do they think they are that they can rip apart families and starve us to death, all for their entertainment? Entertainment! Some entertainment! I tell Flux goodbye and leave the house. Calm down, calm down. I can't afford to think this way at work. Who knows what I'll do.

I enter the dirty music chip factory where I work and report to the room where I work. My job is to monitor and watch this wall of dials and screens that tell the condition of the machines and show the chips. If something overheats or there's a faulty chip, I have to resolve it. It's not hard, but I don't do much and that usually translates to boredom. The previous shift guys get up and leave when enter the room, and I sit in one of their seats.

I check the clock. Dell should be here soon, or he'll be late. We work in pairs, just to keep us awake and functional. Otherwise it'd be like solitary confinement. It's still a prison, but it's better than solitary confinement. The door creaks open on its rusty hinges, and Dell walks in the room. Since we have a reputation for bad luck, he's one of the few people that want anything to do with us.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I say, "Welcome to another day in prison."

He chuckles. "As Mr. Neksus would say, it's a prison we're being paid to stay in."

"Still a prison," I say. We fall silent.

He looks at me. "The Reaping is in two weeks. Are you worried?"

I place my finger to my lips, and he gets my message. Talk about it later, where cameras aren't monitoring 24/7. He nods.

After more than a few hours, around 4 o'clock, we get off work. We live in the same area, so we walk home together.

"So…" he says, "Reaping. Any thoughts?"

"Other than the fact that I want to tear down the whole d*mned Capitol? No. You know, I really should've torched the Justice Building that time when I had the opportunity to."

"C'mon, you know that it won't help. District Three's already bad enough. Burning down a symbol of the Capitol will only get them to crack down. You know that."

"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"Try what? To get yourself killed?"

"You don't get it," I sigh.

"I do get it. I get that the Capitol has shredded your family, but I also get that torching the Justice Building will ruin our chances. We won't be able to pull anything off unless they aren't always looking over our shoulder."

"Then you might want to start worrying," I say.

"Why?"

"I might go ahead and burn it down anyway."

 _ **Pixel Lockdell, 18, District Three Female**_

I gently place Paige in her crib, next to Annabelle. She begins to cry, so I pick her up again.

"Why can't you be quiet," I sigh. I rock her back and forth, humming a lullaby, and her eyes flutter shut. I softly place her down again, and this time, she stays quiet.

I fold my arms and look around. Oh, the house is a mess. My husband Erixon and I are lucky enough to have a nice place to stay, but this place looks like a tornado went through it. I'll get to the mess, but first I need to get dinner. Erickson will be home soon, and I need to have dinner ready.

I walk into the kitchen and open the pantry. I need to go to the market again; all we have left are a few cans of corn and bread. I check the fridge. Containers of chicken broth, prepared beforehand, and eggs. I guess we'll have soup tonight.

I put some broth in a pot, but then I see that we don't have enough. I add some water to make up for it; it should be fine. Finally, I put it on the stove to heat, and then I take the bread and place it in the oven. Now for the mess on the house.

I start with the toys for the twins and clean up the mess in the main room. Everything's all thrown together; when was the last time I came through this mess? A few minutes in, and I'm done with this junk. I grab the trash can from the kitchen, and begin to toss away the papers. Why does he keep so much junk anyway?

I glance over another piece of paper.

 _Receipt…_

Receipt! I look back at the papers I just tossed. Receipts, transcripts, and financial records. No, no, no! I pull paper after paper out of the trash can. Most of them are okay, but a few of the ones on the bottom are ruined.

I throw my hands up. Everything is going wrong today! I stomp my foot in frustration.

What's that smell? It's almost like something is burning.

The bread!

I rush into the kitchen and yank open the oven. There, on the rack, is a black, burnt piece of bread. Not now! Ugh! Why is everything going wrong? I hear the front door open.

"What's that smell?" Erickson calls.

"Uh, I burnt the bread," I call back.

"Oh."

I cringe, knowing what's about to happen.

"What happened here!" he says. He must've seen the papers. He comes into the kitchen. "And the mess and- What happened today?"

"I was trying to clean up, and… I wasn't looking at what I was throwing away. "

"That's all? Do you know how much work those papers were? Do you have any idea how much time I spent filling those forms out?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Really, you need to get a job. I'm at work all day, working hard to support us, and I come home and this? We can barely pay the bills, Pixel."

"I'm sorry! But I can't just go work!"

"Why not?"

"The girls! I can't leave them home!"

"Think! We could get someone to watch them for us. The girl next door; she'd do it."

"I- I can't."

"You're just being unreasonable now."

"You just don't understand."

"You just want an excuse to stay home because you're lazy," he shoots back, "We need the money!"

"We're getting along fine, aren't we?"

"You don't have to work. You don't know anything."

"But I do know that the only reason we have this house is because I squeezed the money out of my parents! They would've sent us away with nothing!"

"I never should have listened to you!" he says, "If it weren't for you, I'd be happy with my life. You ruined everything!"

He can't mean it, can he? I can't let him see me weak. I rush out of the kitchen, go into the bedroom, and slam and lock the door. I can hear Paige crying from here, and I sink to the floor. Why am I here? My family supported the Capitol in the recent rebellion. A lot of good that did. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Why did I get myself here?

I hold my head in my hands and begin to cry. I try to muffle my sobs as best as I can, but I know that he can probably hear me. Everything is just… wrong...

I open my eyes, and I immediately realize that I had fallen asleep. I look at the clock, and it says it's 9 o'clock. Everything is silent.

Cautiously, I open the door. I walk into the main room, where Erickson is sitting on the couch, watching TV. He looks up.

"Look," I start, gulping down my pride, "Sorry about that. Today was just a rough day."

"I guessed that much," he says, "Sorry. Didn't mean to say that much earlier."

I walk closer. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure." He scoots to the side to make room, and I sit down.

"Anything good on TV?"

"Just Hunger Games news."

I flinch, and he must realize it because he turns off the screen. He's a year older than I am; he doesn't have to worry. But as for me…

"Are you worried?" he says. I pause.

"How can I not be?" I say, "I think about the twins… and you. What's going to happen if I get reaped?"

"Yeah. I guess we should've waited another year or two."

"Then we might've been able to create a normal family," I say, "But it's too late now. The past is the past."

"Yeah, we have to make do with this."

"Did you eat?" I ask.

"I drank some soup. You didn't ruin everything." I raise an eyebrow. "You know what I mean," he says.

He puts an arm around my shoulder, and I just try to forget today. Maybe tomorrow will be better. But the future doesn't seem that bright either. With the Reaping so near, I can't help but worry. I close my eyes.

Maybe right now, it's best not to think about anything.

 **Questions (These are getting predictable)**

 **1\. What do you think about Digit's past? How will this affect him in the Games? Any other thoughts about him?**

 **2\. How did Pixel compare to your expectations? To her blog post? Any other thoughts?**

 **3\. Predictions?**

 **4\. What are you excited to see in District Four? Are you excited about District Four?**

 **AND OH MY GOODNESS 62 REVIEWS ALREADY? ON CHAPTER FOUR? AT THIS RATE I'LL BE OVER 100 IN THREE CHAPTERS! Thank you!** **¡Gracias!** **谢谢** **!**

 **~Joseph**


	6. District Four Non-Reapings

**A/N Here's the long awaited District Four! A third of the way through the Non-Reapings! Now remember, Four has changed a lot since the 74th Games, so this will be very different from what you know. Enjoy!**

 **I got 11 reviews last time. It isn't bad, but we had at least 14 reviews the previous chapters. C'mon!**

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female**_

Under the cover of the early morning darkness, I sidle along the cold, stone wall and look around the corner. The coast is clear. Literally. Along this rocky section of the coast, there isn't a person in sight. That makes my job easier. I can see the building from here, our target. They don't have anyone there. I turn around and beckon towards the group of teens behind me.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" a girl asks. I turn to face her.

"Look, I didn't take you this far for you to chicken out. If you're in, stay in. If you're having second thoughts, then leave. I don't have time to deal with this."

The girl nods and shuts her mouth. I look back at the buildings, a block of shops that are owned by Capitol supporters. They say that they just operate businesses, but anyone with half a brain knows that that's where many loyalist groups meet. Usually, Peacekeepers would be going in and out, but tonight, all is silent.

"You all remember the plan, right?" I say. They nod. "Good. I'll light my torch first, and the rest of you follow. Got it? We have to get the timing right or else we'll be swamped by Peacekeepers before we know it."

Everyone nods again.

"Then let's go. We won't meet afterwards; just go home."

Everyone divides into their groups, and we each sneak up our own way. Ray follows me, holding our unlit torches. We creep through the dark alleys. Just ahead, a light comes on inside a house and the door opens. We make a turn, leaving the residential section. Soon, we reach our post, a small ditch behind the largest of the shops. I'm pretty sure that this place was once beautiful, but now, the ditch is full of garbage and the salty smell of rotting fish and junk penetrates everything. Such is life in District Four. It's not that bad, once you get used to it, but when you think about what the District could be like if the districts were free, you see how horrible our situation is.

Ray hands me a torch and pushes up his glasses. I pull the box of matches out of my pocket, and I light one and use it to light the torch. Ray follows, and in the distance, I see that others have seen my flame and lit their torches too. I silently count to three.

One for my nation, Panem.

Two for my District.

And three for my father.

"For Freedom!" I shout as I throw my torch at the wooden walls of the shops. The dry wood immediately catches fire, and the ocean breeze causes the fire to spread to the nearby stores.

Ray smiles at me, and I nod at him, silently saying that our job here is done. The horizon is beginning to turn colors, and if we don't want to get caught, we'd better run. When I loop around to the residential section, I see that people are coming of their houses to see what's going on. I follow the crowd to avoid attention, but as soon as an opening appears, I leave the crowd and walk home.

As I approach our battered door, I hear noises coming from inside. Before I have a chance to process it, the door bursts open and three Peacekeepers exit the house. My blood begins to boil. Another one of their random raids. This is just another way the Capitol intrudes on our privacy, subjecting everyone to random checks and searches. One of them sees me and holds up his weapon. Shoot. Not literally. Every house has a mandatory list of occupants, so they know that there was one person missing from the Whites. And judging by their body language, they know that the missing Whyte is me.

"You are Naia Whyte?" one of them demands. In some situations, I can find a way out, but I know that I'm stuck.

I nod. "Yes, sir," I force myself to say. Disrespect is a leading cause of death in District Four.

"Where were you?" he presses. Who is he to meddle in my business?

"I was out, with friends," I say. I don't lie, but I do tell half-truths.

"Doing what."

"Hanging out by the ocean to watch the sunrise."

He grunts and beckons for his companions to follow. I look down, and I realize that my fists have been clenched the entire time. That can't be good. I take a few deep breaths and walk in the house.

My mom immediately wraps me in a hug. "Are you okay?" she asks.

Still tense, I nod. "Yes, I think."

"What took so long?"

"I had to follow the crowd to avoid attention. Is everyone okay?"  
"Yes, yes. They didn't find anything worth their time."

"Thank goodness," I say. I walk over to where my father is, sitting in his wheelchair. Ever since those loyalists from h*ll burned down our old house while he was still in it, he's been stuck, unable to work. It's all because of them. We wouldn't be stuck in a slum if the Capitol didn't rule us. Father could be a successful businessman; he's told us that he's been good at it since he was young. "I did it, father," I say, "I burned it down."

He nods, but there's no trace of a smile on his worn, scarred face. The Capitol hasn't just destroyed us financially; it's also destroyed us emotionally. I remember when my father was a happy man, when he used to laugh, smile, and joke with us. Now, I can't remember the last time I heard his laugh.

"Very proud of you," he says, "Very proud. You'll be the one to continue our legacy."

"Yes," I say, "We'll throw off the Capitol. Finally."

It's almost been a thousand years since those "Dark Days." A thousand years of killing, murder, and poverty. But I'm telling you, mark my words. I'll make a change, you can be sure of it.

 _ **Creek Langston, 18, District Four Male**_

Smoke. I've been walking by the ocean, and up ahead, a pillar of smoke is rising up. It looks like…

It's coming from the market section of OUR side of the District.

I break into a run. I feel the soft sand compact beneath my shoes as I run as fast as I can toward the fire. A cluster of stores are going up in flames.

I work in one of them.

A crowd has already begun to gather, and they're forming a line to put out the fire. People are grabbing buckets, and we all form a line to the ocean. I've heard that District Four used to have a firefighting squad, but since the District rebelled, the Capitol has taken away all our privileges. All the fault of those d*mned rebels. Someone passes a full bucket to me. I pass it on. I watch as it goes all the way down the line, and the person at the end throws the water onto the fire. Smoke is everywhere; it's burning my eyes and my throat, but I keep going. Another bucket comes along; I move it forward. Again and again, the buckets come. Soon, I've lost track of time. My arms and shoulders are sore, but the smoke is clearing and the fire on this end has died down. I look down the coast, and I see that the other groups have finished putting out their part.

People begin to leave and go home, but I stay, watching the smoldering ashes of the shops. This place was prosperous. This place was ours. Now what am I going to do? That was my source of income. Those rebels just have to insist on tearing everything apart.

"It's all gone," Ocean says, behind me. She walks up and stands beside me. She watches the smoke rise from the charred wood boards, but I can't help but watch her. The light breeze causes her hair to flutter, and though she looks weary, she is beautiful. Not that I could say it to her face or anything.

"All gone," I echo. "I guess we'll need to find a new place to meet. I'll need a new job too."

"Not just our group," she says, "Pretty much all the loyal groups meet here. The rebels knew what they were doing."

I close my right hand into a fist. "Then we'll need to rebuild and regroup," I say, "We can't give in. District Four is not falling to the rebels, and we have to show them that."

"Talking about groups," she says, "Riley and Chealsia are a bit further down, by the docks by the vegetable stands. Are you coming? "

"Sure." I shrug. "Why not?"

We walk down the beach. The wind is picking up, but I feel the warm sun on my face. If the fire hadn't been put out, this wind would've spread it to the residential section, and it would've killed people. Then it would've spread to the rebel half of the district. I'm not a fan of death, rebel or not, but that would've been funny.

As we approach two figures sitting on a dock, one of them stands up and waves. We pick up our pace, and soon, I can hear the wood creak under my feet as I walk into the dock.

"Do you have any news on how far the fire spread?" I ask.

"No, well yes," she says, "A few houses caught on fire, down near these docks." She pauses and sighs. "A little five-year-old girl died."

Ocean brings her hand up to her open mouth. This is what the rebels do. They destroy everything. First our District. Then our people. They can't see that every blessing is coming from the Capitol. When we had victors, we were rich, and there was peace. Ever since the rebellions, our situation has gotten worse and worse. If only we could bring back more tributes. Maybe the rebels would see that the Capitol solves our problems. Hey…

"That's it!" I say.

"What?" Riley asks, questioning me with her eyes.

"I'm going to volunteer," I say.

"What?! Why?" Ocean says.

"Four was richest and happiest when we were bringing home Victors, right?"

They nod.

"So if we start bringing home victors, people might be able to see that cooperating with the Capitol will make us prosperous again."

"Do you have enough time?" Ocean asks.

"There are still a few months until the Reaping. That's enough time to get started. I already have the skills. I just have to turn to combat."

"Where will you learn?"

"I'll find a way."

Riley is firmly on my side. Chealsia said that she might volunteer first, just so she has a chance to beat me. Good luck on that. Ocean is unsure, but she made me promise to give up on the idea if I couldn't find a way to train. I said yes because I'll find a way.

I put it off as long as I can, but eventually, I have to go home. As soon as I step in the door, I'm enveloped in the tension that I always feel here. Next year, I'm moving out of this place. I'll be a victor. My mom has placed lunch on the table, and I go ahead and eat. I'm pretty sure she's already eaten.

Before I've finished chewing my first mouthful of fish, there's a knock on the door.

"Open up," someone commands. My mom comes into the front room. I go to the door and open it. I stand in the middle of the room, beside my mom, as we're supposed to. Everyone's used to these random checks now. The Peacekeepers examine the rooms before coming back in here and searching through first our belongings and then us. They're probably from Two, which means…

"Umm, sir?" I say as they leave. The one that seems to be the leader turns and looks at me. "Are you from Two?"

"Yes," he says, "Why." He takes off his helmet and watches me. He seems like he would be a nice guy, with his warm, brown eyes and dark hair, but I can't help but tremble at the authority in his voice and the commanding look. I fumble for words.

"Can you help me train for the Games?" I blurt.

"What?"

I can feel the disapproving look my mom is giving me, but why should I care? She doesn't really care.

"I want to train—for the Games," I fumble, "I want to show the rebels that we are blessed when we support the Capitol. Maybe—maybe this will help change their minds."

He walks up to me and looks me in the eye. I try not to look away. "Do you know what you asking?"

I nod.

He repeats his question again. "Do you know what you are asking?"

"Yes, yes sir."

"Meet me behind the Peacekeeper center tomorrow night at eight. We'll see."

"Thank you sir," I begin to say, but he's already out the door and gone. The moment the door closes, my mom turns on me.

"Are you crazy?" she says, "Have you gone mad? You can't do this. I forbid it."

"I can, mom, and I will. You can't stop me," I say.

"But it's the Capitol!"

"That's why I'm going!"

"They killed your father, Creek! How could you do this?"

"Father was being a traitor," I shoot back.

"He wasn't going to harm anyone!"

"He was holding a knife! What were they supposed to think?"

"But they killed him!"

"He was a traitor, and you're being one for defending him," I say, "I'm doing this, whether you like it or not." I leave the house and slam the door behind me. My decision is made. I'm doing this. I'm going to help bring Four back to its former glory.

I will volunteer.

And nothing is going to stop me.

 **Questions. Preguntas. 问题.**

 **1\. What do you think of the new D4?**

 **2\. What can you see about Naia's personality, other than that she's a rebel? How does she compare to Digit?**

 **3\. What do you think about Creek's personality? How does he compare to the other Careers?**

 **4\. Predictions?**

 **5\. Submitters, how did I do? How can I improve?**

 **Til next time!**

 **~Joseph**


	7. District Five Non-Reapings

**A/N I'm so sorry for the long wait! The characters were really good, but I had some trouble with writers block… and perfectionism. I'm just going to post this chapter, but I do feel that it could've been better… I just need to cut my losses and move on.**

 _ **Elysia Veton, 17, District Five Female**_

I open my eyes and see the cracked ceiling. The house is silent. My father is probably passed out on the living room couch, so this is my opportunity to get out. I quickly get dressed and whatnot, and I grab the huge jacket in my closet. As I pass the dirty mirror, I adjust my clothes to cover the bruises. No one else needs to know. I unlock the door to my room and tiptoe out of it and into the kitchen, where I sneak a slice of bread from the pile of bottles. I grab a bottle to take with me. Today's a holiday, so my father will most definitely be a madman when I return for the night. It's a lot easier to put up with him if I'm numb too. Finally, I wrap the huge coat around me and leave the house.

It's windy outside today, so I wrap the jacket around me even tighter and go to my favorite spot in town: the "park." Someone had planted a few elms here a few decades ago, and now, it's a little green in the urban mess we call District Five. Someone built a bench here years ago, and I sit down. People are hurrying to and fro; no one pays attention to a girl wrapped in a jacket three sizes too big for her. This means I get a perfect view.

A man dressed in a tuxedo and carrying a briefcase runs by; I've never seen him here before. He's probably a minor government official, on his way to some meeting. He's the only person with work today, however. It's still pretty slow, since most people are sleeping in, but a few people are up and about. A woman leads a small boy past my bench; I've seen them often enough to know that they're on their way to the boy's grandparents' place. Lucky him. I've always wondered what it'd be like to know my grandparents well. Then again, I'd have to know my parents well first. They say my mother was beautiful—well, I know she's beautiful; I've seen her in the market—but other than that, she's a complete stranger. My father is no better. If he's not beating me, he refuses to look at me. Such is my life.

I see Omnick coming from a side alley, so I scoot to the side to make room. He smiles when he sees me, and he sits down.

"I knew you would be here," he says.

"Is there anywhere else I'd be?" I say, staring at the ground.

I can tell he's watching me, even though my jacket is blocking my view.

"He did it again last night," he says, "Didn't he."

I can't help but laugh bitterly. "Of course. Unless my dad has to work overtime, I have to deal with h*ll every night."

"How bad was it?"

"Wasn't the worst. I've got bruises everywhere, but my head is mostly okay."

"Mostly?"

"He accidentally cut me with glass below my left ear."

"Then it's not too bad," he says.

"Nothing compared to the monster I'll have to face tonight. I brought a bottle with me. Better to be prepared."

"I can get Hyperion to hand over some money," he offers.

"Why not Zeus?"

"He got caught with an official's wife last night. He isn't going anywhere."

"Then I'll take you up on that offer," I sigh.

"They should be here anytime now. Warisha won't be here. Her parents won't let her out of the house. "

"Life is wonderful, isn't it," I say.

"We wish."

"It really isn't bad if I can believe it. It's not bad, just meaningless."

"That isn't bad?"

"I guess. I need to do something with my life. I'm pretty sure I'm going to waste it like my dad does—heck, I've wasted everything so far—but I'll be happy if I can do one thing to make my life not-meaningless."

"And that is…"

"I don't know. Save someone's life? How am I supposed to know?"

He shrugs. "There's Audra coming. Hyperion isn't far behind her."

We watch them approach. This bench is pretty much our hangout. Considering that we're the burnouts, it's no surprise that even the homeless people avoid this place.

The two get here. It's quiet today; usually, we'd smell Zeus' constant cigarettes and be off to do something. But today, we just sit. Omnick gets Hyperion to hand over some cash. It isn't hard; anyone who's 21 but still in high school can't be smart; besides, he's rich. Why is he still in high school? I don't know. I don't know much about their backgrounds. Most of them don't know about mine. But at least they care.

"I'm gonna go buy some pills," I say, excusing myself, "I'll need them today."

"I'll go with you," Omnick offers. If it were any of the others offering, I would refuse, but I nod.

We begin to walk the all-too-familiar path to Old Melchior's shack. The houses become more and more run down. The road goes from paved to unpaved before becoming a muddy slush, and everything here is covered in soot and dust from the nearby factories.

I walk up to a particularly broken shack and knock on the door.

"Who is it?" an old, hoarse voice calls.

"It's me," I say, "The tired girl." He doesn't use real names, but he calls me the tired girl. I probably do always look tired, now that I think about it.

There are a few footsteps, and then the door creaks open. Old Melchior, as his name suggests, is a pretty old man. He's short and skinny, and he looks like he might die any day. People say that he knows a lot more than he lets on.

"The regular?" he asks.

"Yes," I say. I hold out the cash, and he snatches it and counts the bills.

"Y'er one short," he says.

"Oh I'm sorry, um…"

Omnick reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crinkled bill.

"No, it's okay, you don't have to," I say.

"I insist."

"C'mon. I'm-"

"Let me pay."

"Fine."

The old man smiles and walks to a drawer, where he pulls out a vial. He pours out a few white pills, places them in a bag, and hands them over.

"Y'know," he says, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you two 'r a couple."

I feel heat creeping up my cheeks, and Omnick smiles. Old Melchior laughs and waves us out. We leave the shack, and I check the bag. Instead of the regular five, there are six.

"He gave me an extra pill," I say.

"He likes you."

"I guess."

I play with the bag. I'll wash 'em down tonight before I go home.

No, not my home.

It's only a house. It's not my home.

 _ **Chase Arclight, 16, District Five Male**_

I push my way through the crowd, trying to keep up with Aquitty. She stops in front of a fruit vendor, and I step over a crate to get to her. When she turns and sees that I'm still here, she smiles and bargains with the man for a bag of apples. She finally seems to accept a price, and she comes to me.

"How is it so far?" she says.

"Remind me how you convinced me to come out here?" I say.

"You need to be a little less serious," Aquitty says. "Besides, this is to get some groceries for you and your dad. You can't live off canned goods, you know."

"I'm definitely not dead, so I'd say you can."

She just shrugs and keeps going into the sea of people that seem to have overwhelmed the market. Something's definitely off with her today. Though she smiles, she seems sad. I squeeze through a group of men. One of them curses at me as I pass. See if I care. As I pass by an old woman selling vegetables, a young boy run by, knocking over the basket of cucumbers. She scrambles to pick them up, but she's slow and the crowd is pretty thick. I go over and help pick them off the dusty ground. As soon as all the cucumbers are back in the basket, I move on. There's no need for "thank-you"s. Better to keep it at a business level.

When I look around, I can't see Aquitty. She knows the place well; she comes here often, but I haven't been here since Cassy got shot. I guess I'll have to figure this out myself.

I maneuver around a group of people, and the further I go, the thinner the crowd gets. If I remember correctly, the market ends a few blocks down, but I can't be sure. In the main city, everything is very clear-cut. Out here in the country, everything blends together, and you can't really tell where one part ends and another begins. There is one bonus, though. The air out here is better. Up ahead, I see Aquitty sitting on a small bench. She stands up and waves when she sees me coming. There it is again. That tinge of sadness.

"Where did I lose you?" she says. "I could've sworn you were right behind me."  
"Then it's a good thing you didn't swear. You lost me when you got me to come. Where's Kenn, anyway?"

"He… didn't want to come," she squeaks out.

"Sure, sure. I believe you. It's not like he ever wants to go with you. Seriously. Don't lie."

She sighs. "He's… in a bit of hot water."  
"Just tell me plainly. I highly doubt he's standing in-"

"Okay, okay! Fine! He was in the wrong place at at the wrong time... and he got hauled away by a gang. I called the Peaceekeepers… but nothing's happened so far."

"Why didn't you tell me."

"I know you too well! You'll just get into trouble. I thought that the market might a nice diversion."

"Where did this happen," I press.

"Please, don't-"

"Where did it happen."

"On Fifth Street," she concedes. "Don't get involved. He can find a way out."

"He's your brother. How can you just stand here."

"He's done it before…"

"And got out with a dislocated shoulder and a black eye. I'm going," I say as I leave her. Framed. Oh no, not this. I break into a run. I can't let this happen again. As I near the intersection, I see a splotch of blood. I can only hope that this isn't from Kenn. When I study the ground, I see that something—or someone—was dragged into an alley. I follow the trail, and I begin to hear voices echoing off the cold walls. I step into the alley and follow it, rounding corner after corner. The voices get louder and louder, and I pick up a metal bar leaning against the wall.

As I near a final bend, I can hear someone cursing just around the corner. It must be them. All of a sudden, there's a slap. There's no time to think. I charge around the corner.

Two men, probably in their mid-twenties, stand over Kenn's unconscious figure. They look at me.

"Stay out of our business," one growls.

"Make me."

I rush in, swinging my bar. They both pull out knives. I should've thought about this before jumping in the deep end. Out of pure luck, I hit one of them in the head and he goes down, but the other one is playing defensively, dodging and blocking. As he ducks a swing, he punches me in the groin. I shout and lose my balance, dragging him down with me. He pins me to the ground and pulls a rope out of his pocket.

That's when an apple hits him in the back of his head. Aquitty is standing at the corner. When he turns to look, I shove him off of me and grab the rope. She runs over, and while I hold him still, she ties the rope around him.

Once the knot is secure, she rushes over and hugs her brother, almost as if she was squeezing the breath out of him. His eyes slowly open… and he groans. Aquitty squeezes him tighter and begins to cry.

She looks at me, but she doesn't thank me. She knows I know, so there's no need for unnecessary words. I turn away from them, and I curse myself for feeling jealousy, for even feeling something when I look at them. I wish I could say I don't know why I feel this way, because emotions don't last long when they're ungrounded, but I know why. If it weren't for that bastard Jade, Cassy would be here.

And maybe, just maybe, my life would be normal.

 **Questions**

 **1\. Elysia… how do you feel about her? What is her outlook on life and how will it affect her in the Games?**

 **2\. Chase… what do you think happened in his past? What can you see about his character?**

 **3\. How can I write the characters better?**

 **4\. Predictions?**

 **5\. Which character is your least favorite so far? Why?**

 **6\. How mad are you at this late update?**

 **Once again, I'm so sorry for this late update. I'll try to do better, but no guarantees.**

 **~Joseph**


	8. District Six Non-Reapings

**A/N Ahhh… I finished the chapter. A few days ago. I don't have an excuse for the past few days; it was done, but I just left it on my device. Of course, the first week after the D5s, I got sick and was busy with make-up work, but then I started slacking. My life kinda sucks in this way; I'm just less motivated. This chapter is also kinda short… explanation at the bottom.**

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female**_

"Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnggggggg!"

The school bell rings, announcing the end of the school day. I grab and stack my papers, put them in my bag, and dash out the schoolhouse. In Six, schools are small buildings, and you find them every two miles or so. There's no public transportation here (oh, the irony), so we all walk. The few lucky ones have bicycles, but those are way too expensive for me. We barely have enough money to send me to school, since school is only free up to the end of middle school. I know it's important — it's the only way to have any hope for the future, but I can't help but wonder — is it worth it?

I wait outside and watch everyone else leave the building, looking for Ciera and her twin brother Crain. No one else pays attention to me — I've got a knack for staying out of the spotlight. That's probably a good thing. Peacekeepers probably would have killed me already if I were better at standing out. That's a pretty big benefit; you can get by with some things other people can't. I see Ciera's brown, wavy hair amidst the crowd of people. I wave to get her attention. This is the disadvantage of being quiet. Sometimes, even your own friends don't notice you. I think the benefits outweigh the disadvantages, though.

She smiles and comes over. She's not the loud type either.

"Hey," she says, "How was the test? "

"Eh, okay," I say, "Could be better."

"Crain's on his way," she says, "He just had to go see a teacher to turn in some forms for that work experience program he's doing. "

We wait. The schoolyard is strangely devoid of Peacekeepers today. Usually, there's one or two. Today, there are none. That can only be good. I hear the school door creak open, and Crain runs down the old, wooden stairs.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he says, "You could've gone ahead, you know."

"No, it's fine," I say, "We can wait."

We begin to walk. We live on the same street, so we walk home together.

"How's Jett Jr. doing?" Crain asks. My younger brother was named after my father, hence the "Jr."

"He's fine," I say, "Talkative as always." I see a glint of light out of the corner of my eye. A metal cuff, painted white, sits on the ground at the base of a building. It looks like part of a Peacekeeper uniform. It's scrap metal, and this stuff is high quality. I could sell it and make enough money to buy fresh vegetables. _Fresh_ vegetables. Of course, I'll probably get canned goods, since they last longer.

I scurry over and pick it up. Sure enough, it's a Peacekeeper cuff. Crain pulls me up.

"Are you crazy?" he says, "There's a Peacekeeper right there."

"What?"

I look to where he gestures, and sure enough, a Peacekeeper stands at the corner on his daily patrols.

"I got it, though," I say, "I'll sell it to Mr. Hundy tomorrow. "

He sighs. "But be more careful. These are expensive to make, and I don't think the owner would be happy with it being melted down. You could get shot."

I shrug, but I'm not surprised I wasn't noticed. I'm never noticed. Ciera looks at me with worried eyes.

"Don't worry," I say, "I'm not stupid. I try to have a plan."

She doesn't reply. I'm not surprised; I probably wouldn't have replied if I were her.

We continue walking back, and soon, we're at my house. They live a few houses down, but they come in with me. Crain is immediately off to find Jett Jr., while Ciera and I unpack our papers. She begins to work, but I idly doodle on the back of a sheet.

"Ugh. I hate doing these problems," I say.

She smiles. "I do too."

There's so much else I could be doing though. Maybe sell that cuff. I should do that. I stand up.

"Where're you going?" Ciera asks.

"Sell the cuff. I can't stand homework," I say.

"Oh please. It's not that much. Finish and we'll go. I'm almost done."

I look down at the list of math problems. I guess I really should get this done. Who knows how it'll take me to finish. If they're not done in time, my parents will be mad.

—I—

As I finish my last problem, I look out the window. The sun in going down. Ciera went home a few minutes ago, and it's definitely too late to visit Mr. Hundy. Oh well. There's always tomorrow.

 _ **Aleczander Ford, 18, District Six Male**_

"Thank you, Zander," Mr. Carvan says, "Tell your dad 'thanks' for me."

"I will, sir," I say, "Bye."

"Goodbye to you too."

He closes the door, and I give a contented sigh. That was the last delivery of the day, and I can go home now. Most of the time, I work in the shop, fixing trains, cars, and such, but there are some days where I deliver packages. It's not the best job; the street of Six suck, but I can't complain. This is infinitely better than what I used to have.

The sun will set soon, and I need to get home as soon as possible. It's best not to be seen outside after sunset, whether you get caught by a gang or by Peacekeepers. I pick up my pace.

My shoes crunch on the gravel road. There's a slight wind, just enough to make the hot summer evening nice. The sky is covered with patches of clouds and smoke, but that's normal. However, as I pass a certain house, it's almost as if a cloud covers the sun. It's where my blood family lives. They didn't want me; they made that very clear to me. I can't help but look in the window, and it looks just like it did four years ago, when I left. I'm sure they haven't missed me one bit. Though the house is sizable for a poor place like our district, the rooms feel cold and dull. I step away from the house and keep walking.

Soon, I draw nearer to my home; well, technically, my foster home. They're the ones that took me in after I left, and they're the ones that really care.

When I open the door, I'm immediately hit by the warmth from the stove. The warm yellow light illuminates the room, and I hear my mom in the kitchen, humming as she prepares a little something for dinner. We're not rich, but we have enough.

I go to the sink to wash up. The grime in my hands never completely goes away. Sometimes I wonder about stuff like this. I wonder what it would be like to go to school; I haven't been in one since I left. The high schools here are too expensive; we could never afford it. It's a downward spiral. I can't get schooling, so I'll be stuck with low-income. Someday, my kids won't be able to get schooling, so they won't be able to climb the economic ladder. We're pretty much stuck.

I can't complain, though. Though we don't have much money, I'm happier here, with parents that love me, than with my blood family. I've got a roof over my head, food to keep me going, and happiness.

Isn't that all you need?

 **A/N I'M SO SORRY. I know that Zander's section was really short, but that's what you get when you give me no extra characters to use for character development.**

 **If anyone is still reading, could you drop a line and let me know?**

 **Questions. By the way, the questions are for you if you don't know what to say in your review. No obligation to answer them.**

 **1\. Sonic. How much of a surprise was she? What did you expect?**

 **2\. From what you have, what do you think of his personality? Is it good?**

 **3\. Six non-reapings left! Which one are you waiting for?**

 **4\. How good of a job have I done writing your character?**

 **5\. HOW CAN I FIND MORE MOTIVATION.**

 **Til next time,**

 **~Joseph**


	9. District Seven Non-Reapings

**A/N Joseph finished another chapter! Wahoo! I'm so sorry for the slower updates. I've been noticing the marked decrease in reviews… it's depressing.**

 _ **Alder Blackwood, 16, District Seven Male**_

With my chisel, I scrape off another sliver of wood. It's two weeks until my sisters' birthdays, and I want to have something to give them. I can't bear to spend money on a present — everything I earn should go to the family — but they should get something from me. Next week is the reaping, but it's nothing to worry about. If they get reaped, someone will volunteer for them. I only hope that I won't have to volunteer for someone else. It's not so much the Games that scare me; I just don't want to not be here for my family. But if a young one gets Reaped and no one volunteers, I'll do it.

My mom is the main breadwinner here; my dad is a lazy, loud drinker. He's decent enough to stay sober here at home, but since his parents were rich, he just lacks that work ethic. Some dad. I try to help make up for that lack of income, but I can only do so much. It makes me wonder; where would we be if he actually tried? Rich? Living in town? I'll never know. All I know is that we would be better off. I like to say that I live in the present. I don't mean that I go all out. I mean that I try hard so that now is always the best it could be. Why take "good" when it could be "best"?

I look up at the clock hanging on the wooden walls of my small workshop. It's time to go for today's training.

In District Seven, we don't train whenever we want. The 17 and 18-year olds have the first two hours after school lets out at noon. Next, the 15 and 16-year-olds get a chance from 2-3. 10 through 13-year olds get the last two hours, and no one under 10 is eligible for training. After that, the center closes for the day. For most of us, the time after training is work.

I arrange my tools neatly in the drawers and clean up the slivers everywhere. I open the door into the house, and I grab a drink of water before I leave the house for the Training Center.

District Seven is a large district, and there are two Training Centers. There's the one in the North, where most of the poor, the riffraff, and the desperate live, and then there's the one near where I live, in the South. This is where most of us train, and it's better equipped.

The sun is shining in a partly cloudy sky today, and the flowers at the entrance of the Center are blooming in all their glory. I open the double glass doors and walk in, and I breathe in the cool air. There aren't many people, probably because there are extra working shifts today. Even I have to work for an hour after I usually get off today. I stretch a few times to warm up and go to the axes, where Aspen is already practicing with his target. He nods at me, and I nod back and pick the twig out of his hair. I don't get how he does it, but he always has something in his hair. He tries to get my hand off, but I know he's holding back a smile.

I pick up an axe and chuck it at the dummy. I'm not perfect, but I can hit my target. I hear the doors open, and I can't help but smile at June's bright voice. She's talking with another girl.

"-and then my dad's like, 'just do it.' That's when I left… oh, okay, I'll see you later… bye!"

I hear her footsteps behind me.

"Hey, what's up?"

I throw another axe at the dummy and shrug. "The usual. You?"

"My dad had another talk with me about Forrester. Somehow, he thinks that I should get to know him because he — Forrester — is rich. Yeah, the usual."

She adjusts her belt. June is relatively rich, so she's cares more about her appearance. Some people find it annoying, but I don't. I think she hangs around us because we actually listen. If you get to know her, she's really nice.

There's a pause.

"So… the reaping is in a week," she says, "Who do you think will volunteer?"

"You mean, if there is a volunteer?" I say.

"Don't be silly, they always reap a young one so that someone volunteers. Why else have 12, 13, and 14-year-olds been Reaped for the past seven years? "

I told you she wasn't stupid.

"True, true," I say, "I think Oren might do it. He's crazy enough."

"He's got a girl," Aspen comments. True.

"I think Willow might, for the girls," she suggests. Aspen snorts. "Okay, maybe not. Have either of you thought about volunteering?"

Aspen snorts again.

I press my lips together. "I sure hope I don't have to," I say, "But if it calls for it, I'll do it."

No one has anything to say after that. Too soon, the bell rings and we have to leave. As I put everything up, I'm filled with dread toward the prospect of volunteering. But if I've learned anything, it's that hard work can conquer any obstacle.

Even if that obstacle is the 998th Hunger Games.

 _ **Arden Caville, 17, District Seven Female**_

I grunt as I swing my axe into the tree. Again. Logging has to be the worst job in the world. A beat of sweat runs down the side of my face, and I pull the axe out of the tree and swing again. To make this job worse, we get axes. A few of the experienced people here used cross-cut saws, but not many do. Chainsaws are unheard of here; very few people, mostly Capitol-supporters, get them. Those are so much more efficient. Axes are not. My theory? The Capitol is cheap, and axes are the cheapest things to make, not to mention that chainsaws are scarier in case of an uprising. Ha. They think they're keeping us in a state of constant fear? Who's the one that has to keep Peacekeepers here to get a good night's sleep?

A man yells as a tree crashes down a couple hundred feet away. Interesting? Nah. This everyday stuff is the worst thing in the world. Why should I waste my time on earth on this?

Well, yeah. Because if I don't, I won't have any time to spend. Peacekeepers don't look kindly upon refusing to work. Well, most don't.

After a few more swings, the tree falls, and a group of workers hauls the log to the canal, where it's floated down to the mills. I glance at the Peacekeeper post, and I see that they're changing shifts. That means I'm free. You see, different Peacekeepers have different personalities, and some of them, like the one switching out, are quite strict. The one coming in... is a lot looser.

As soon as the previous guard is gone, I throw down my axe. My older brother Tristan comes over to me.

"You look done," he states.

"I am done," I reply, "Logging has to be the worst job in Panem. Trees, trees, trees, I'm done." I pick up the axe and hurl it into the nearest tree. When I look back at him, he has a twinkle in his eye as he looks at the axe stuck in the tree. "What."

"We're going to get a few drinks after work, right?" he says.

"What do you mean? Of course."

"What if I told you that we can make the money for it right here right now?" he says, looking at a group of men standing around the water station. Ohhh..

"Sure," I say, "I'll beat every last one of them."

Tristan hollers, and one of them hollers back. Tristan bets that I can beat all of them in an axe-throwing contest. Needless to say, the prospect of being bested by a 17-year-old girl doesn't sit well with them, and it's arranged. If I win, the loser gives us enough money for a drink. If I lose, we give the victor enough money for a drink. Risky? Sure, though you do have to remember; I'm the one that's still regularly training right now.

The first man steps up, and he throws first. He gets a decent stick, and several people cheer him on. I could beat it, but I purposely miss the target, just to encourage the few doubters to agree to the challenge. I look at Tristan, and he winks at me. The deal is sealed.

The process is repetitive. Someone throws. I throw. We get the money. Soon, most of them regret their decision. The horn sounds for the end of the day, and we all pile on the trick that drives us back to town. As soon as we're off the bus, Tristan and I go straight home to meet his twin Carell and to count the money. Turns out, we've got enough for… twenty drinks? That's a week's wages. We could go into business with this, if it weren't illegal in theory.

I leave them and stalk up the stairs. My mom sees me, sighs, and turns away. She always wanted me to be a "proper lady." Too bad I don't work that way. I enter my room and sit on my hard bed, where I fish a book out from under my pillow. It's some fantasy story about a woman that travels through time in order to keep some catastrophic disaster from happening.

"Hey, Hurry up, we're going," Carrel calls from the kitchen.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

I run down the stairs, where my brothers are waiting. "It's about time," Tristan says. Before we go, my mom stops me.

"At least change into something respectable," she says, "You look like you just came out of a tornado."

"Nah, I'm good." I know she's just doing what she thinks is right, but geez, who really cares?

"But everyone will see you like this. What will they think?"  
"Mom, let them think."

With that, I leave the house. I don't mean to be rude, but really, what did she think? If she wanted a proper girl in a proper family, she should've married a proper man, not a logger like my dad. She's definitely good enough for anyone in the rich part of town, maybe even better than most of the women there.

Soon, we're at the local bar. In the beginning, it was a bit awkward being the only female, but hey, I've got enough to stand up to anyone here. I grab a wad of bills from Tristan's bag, and I take a seat and throw down a few bills on the table. The bartender is used to me now, and he gets me a glass and pours me a cup.

"Getting excited, aren't you," Tristan comments.

"I earned the money; I expect to enjoy myself," I say, just before I gulp down the entire glass. I bang on the counter and get a refill.

Some people would say that I'm a bad girl. District Seven highly values its traditions, and women aren't supposed to go wild or drink as much as the average guy. Does that make me bad? No. Does this make the critics good? No. Good people, bad people; they don't exist. Sure, someone might give money to the poor, but he's just trying to make himself feel better. Everyone's the same. Deep down, they just want to survive. If you threw my best friend Hayden and I in the Hunger Games, I'd kill him in the final two. Am I bad? No. I'm honest, and that's a million times better than those glazed people who refuse to see the world as it is.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Alder's attitude towards the Games… what do you think of it? How do you think he ended up volunteering?**

 **2\. Arden's attitude towards the Games… how will it impact her decisions?**

 **3\. Who do you like more? Why?**

 **4\. Out of all the tributes we've had, who do you think will make it farthest?**

 **5\. Other than your tribute, who do you want to win?**

 **6\. To the submitters, how did I do?**

 **I'll try to get the next ones out faster!**

 **Sorry again,**

 **~Joseph**


	10. District Eight Non-Reapings

**A/N I'm so sorry for taking off on an unannounced hiatus. I was losing interest because of other distractions, but then I finally watched Mockingjay Part 2! Tat got me excited again, and I wrote this in the past few days. I am getting back into my writing groove, so it may be a bit rough. Anyway, I LOVE these characters, and I'll see you at the end.**

 _ **Button Davenport, 15, District Eight Female**_

I thread another needle for my dad and hand it to him. He takes it and begins to sew the cloth together. I grab a pair of scissors and begin to cut out a collar. My dad is a Capitol-famous clothes designer, creative and intuitive but a bit distracted. Some say it's his major flaw, but I think that it's a strength. Life is like art in this way; everything is subject to interpretation. Some people like to say I'm weird. Those people are the same gritty realists that don't enjoy life, so I'll keep my oddness, thank you.

I look out of the dirty window. It's another dark, dreary day in District Eight. The wind is blowing clouds of dust over the gravel streets. In the distance, a factory belches out the smoke that contributes to the never-ending darkness caused by the smog. Notice I that I said "distance." Because of my dad's position, we live close to the District center. Most people say that I'm lucky, but I really don't see why. I completely get no opportunities to observe the smoke coming out of the factories. The way is billows out before being caught by the wind — now that is beautiful.

All of a sudden, a patch of sunlight appears on the ground. Sunlight! I drop my pair of scissors and frantically look for my stuff. Sketchbook? Check. Pencils? Check. I jump over a pile of cloth and stomp out the front door.

Usually, I only leave the house to go shopping, but today, I'm headed towards the Justice Building. It's always so cold and stately in the usual lighting, so for the last few days, I've been wondering what it looks like in the sun.

The first thing I notice is that no one is up and about. Duh, they're all at mandatory work. I think there was a law for a while that allowed Peacekeepers to shoot anyone out during work hours. Though the law is gone now, everyone is missing the sun. I guess it's not that bad. I highly doubt they would appreciate this anyway.

Oh look, there's a flower. It's a rare treat here; there usually isn't enough light for them to bloom. I squat to get a closer view. Deciding that I'm not close enough, I get on my knees and quickly sketch the intricate blossoms. Standing up, I realize that my clothes are all dirty. My mom isn't going to be very happy. Oh well, the stains don't look that bad. The colors match well if I do say so myself.

I quickly step into the Square and look up at the Justice Building. The few noble rays of light that penetrate the clouds of pollution create stripes on the building. I can't pass up this priceless opportunity, so I flip open my sketchbook and begin to draw. A Peacekeeper begins to walk up to me, and when the sun hits his armor, there's a bright spark of light. Shoot, he's going to move.

"Can you just hold it?" I call, "You're in the perfect spot." He looks surprised for a second. That's weird. Doesn't he enjoy the sun?

Soon, he's right beside me, and for the first time, I notice the intricate patterns on the armor. I begin to sketch, but he rudely interrupts.

"Why aren't you at work?" He asks in a gruff voice.

"Wait… a… second…" I put the final touches on my sketch. "What?"

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Work? What work?" This is when I suddenly realize that I'm running around during work hours. This was probably not the best idea. However, I did get some nice drawings, so I say that this inconvenience is worth it. "Oh, I forgot. I'm an apprentice to my dad, Stephen Davenport, the designer? I saw that the sun was out, so I had to come out and see too."

"You need to get back to wherever you work. We can't have people like you running around."

"Why?" I ask, "It's nice out here today."

"I didn't ask for any questions. Get moving."

I should probably go home. That gun doesn't look too friendly. On the other hand, its design is sleek and shiny. It looks quite nice. Anyway, I go home.

When I step into the house, my mom is banging away in the kitchen, which would be normal — that is, normal if my mom usually bangs things when she's not mad. However, that is not the case, and she only bangs things when she's mad, so something must be wrong. Something's almost always wrong. If it's not my father, then it's me. She's constantly demeaning me before other people; it's a wonder she hasn't left. Or not. Dad has quite a bit of money.

I sneak past the kitchen and scurry up the stairs and into my room, where I sit at my table and take out my paints. With what I've seen today, I have plenty to say.

 _ **Zash Kamzoil, 15, District Eight Male**_

He tosses the clean shirt onto a pile, where a girl is hanging things up to dry. His trusty sidekick hands him another dirty shirt, and he prepares to make another lunge into the grimy, soapy—

Before I move on, you may be asking, what's going on? Congrats to those of you that figured it out — Zash is narrating his non-life in the third person. And why would he do that? Let me tell you, if you ever get a job, don't go into washing clothes. Just don't. You'd die from boredom. Now, moving on.

The bell above the door rings. Another client. They could be hard to deal with, but he knew that the clients had money. That is, if it was a real client — not one of those lurkers that are trying to figure out everything about everyone. Yes, there are a few of these people in Eight. The constant smog can't possibly be good for you. He goes to the counter and studies the client. She's dressed in a brown coat. She's pretty average — olive skin, black hair, eyes that are rolling at me.

Wait, what?

"Oh, hey Joann," I say, "Got a little carried away." Joann is a girl a year older than me. Although she dreams of working with kids, I can only wish her luck. I've always been the one good with kids.

"A little carried away? More like swept away." Oh, did I mention her condescending attitude?

"Yeah, swept you away."

"Oh please. You still get too wrapped up in your imagination sometimes," she says.

"So true. Maybe that's why kids like me," I shoot back, knowing that I'm hitting where it hurts.

"You need to grow up."

"You need to enjoy your non-existent life."

She laughs and slams her hand down on the counter. I smile too.

"Anyway, what's up?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says, trying to get a hold of herself, "My mom sent me to get our laundry. It is ready, correct?"

"Correct," I say, grabbing a bag of her clothes. "Here you are."

"Thanks," she says, dropping the coin on the counter with a clang. "I'd stay and chat, but I have to go. I'll see you." She exits.

I go back to washing the clothes. Vlad, my co-worker slash best friend, comes in with another bag of dirty clothes. He's been strangely quiet today — I mean, quieter than he already is. Did that make sense?

"What's on your mind," I ask, "You're quiet."

"I was just thinking. You know how boring, slow, and tedious this job is?"

"Tell me about it."

"Anyway, I was wondering if there was a way to wash them faster. I came up with this sketch, but I'm not sure you'll get it."

"Yep, you know me. Besides, it's probably not advisable to put paper next to a huge tub of soapy, dirty water." He shrugs and moves on.

Vlad is a genius. His imagination left him years ago, but he's still brilliant. I'm sure that he would've been accepted to the Capital school if his family had had the money to apply. Even without that, he's going places someday.

I go back to my washing. Boring. Boring Boring Boring Boring Boring. I look out the window. People are beginning to go home from work. Excellent. I watch a man hobble across the front of our building. He was born with it, and he's been ignored all his life. His daughter left him at first chance, and now, he and his wife are struggling to survive. Little do they know that gold is buried under their house.

How do I know this? I don't. I just made it up. It helps with the boredom. Anyway, I won't be needing it much longer. We're going to get off work soon.

About half an hour later, I rinse my hands for the last time today, say goodbye to Vlad, and head back to my family's apartment. I start walking up the old, rusty stairs. On my way up, I pass Eli, the younger boy that lives below me.

"Are we meeting tonight?" he says.

I nod. "Yep. I've got a new story too."

"You always have a new story." He smiles.

I continue up. Once a week, all the kids in this complex gather together on the fire escape, and I tell them stories ranging from horror to fantasy. Some people think it's ridiculous and that I need to use my brain somewhere else. I really don't see how that would work. Sometimes, it feels like the logical part of my brain has disappeared. But that's not why I tell stories. In District Eight, life is monotonous and boring. Everything is dark and depressing, so everybody is often depressed and serious. I think we need a bit more laughter. We need to feel real emotion, real emotion, not the dullness that comes with monotonous work. When I tell stories, it unlocks this door to others. They're happy because they're not bored, and I'm happy because honestly, fiction is more real to me than reality. Maybe I'll end up writing a book someday. I'll title it Meaningful. We've got enough meaningless stuff in this world; we don't need another Meaningless story.

I open the door of my family's apartment and walk in. My mother is cooking soup, which is fast, easy, cheap, and "filling." At least, you don't feel hungry afterward. I walk into the kitchen and help her. My father should be back soon, and we'll be eating dinner. This is nice, but honestly, I'm just looking forward to tonight.

An hour or two later, I grab a lantern and wait on the stairs. The yellow light provides atmosphere. Eli is the first to arrive, as usual, and soon, we have a sizable bunch, waiting for me to begin.

"Well, let's get started," I say. I begin to tell a story of a boy that lives on the other side of the District, where everything is nicer. All the moderately rich people live there. However, because his parents are murdered, he ends up wandering the streets. He spends the next years of his life trying to get back at the murderers. Halfway through, Eli begins to add stuff, like the pig that the boy rides and the portal the leads to a different dimension. He'll be a great storyteller someday.

About an hour after the sun has set, I end. "That's all for today. Time to go to sleep."

And with that, the spell is broken and everything returns to its real feel. I'm not a big fan of reality because It has a way of getting us down. What I do like is twisting reality to create a new reality where we aren't depressed. I think that's what hope is. When we hope for a better District Eight, it's because we've heard stories about a better District Eight. Without stories, we have no hope, and that's why no matter what people think, I'm not going to stop telling them.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Button is... interesting. Do you like or dislike her character? How will it be beneficial or detrimental in the Games?**

 **2\. Zash is also... interesting. Do you like him more or less? Am I the only person seeing oodles of potential for this character?**

 **3\. Predictions?**

 **4\. How was my writing?**

 **My goal is to get another chapter up within a week, so BUG THE CRAP OUTTA ME IF YOU NEED TO. District Nine is next!**

 **~Joseph**


	11. District Nine Non-Reapings

**A/N Yay! Another chapter on time! Here's District Nine. This chapter is a bit short, but I'll explain at the bottom.**

 _ **Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female**_

When I wake up, the house is empty, as it almost always is. The first rays of dawn are shining in through the dirty windows, but my father has already left, as always. Because he's a mechanic in high demand, he's always on his way to some far corner of the district, leaving early in the morning, and returning late at night, often after I've gone to bed. That means that I'm in charge of the house. My mother? I don't know my mother. She left a long time ago, supposedly because her alcoholism was too much of a burden. It's not like it's a problem. I'd say that her leaving has been my gain.

I wash my face, comb my hair, and go outside to work in the garden, which I manage by myself. We can't afford to buy all our food, so I grow what we need. I look up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. I grab a bucket and begin to water the are the potatoes, which we practically live on. I can make anything out of them, so I've only had to take out tesserae once. Everything else is only to supplement them, from the tall stalks of delicious (but space-taking) corn to the green vines of beans and peas. The garden would have to be one of my favorite places. No one ever bothers me. It's just me and my work.

After I finish, I step back into the house. First, I take a precious bit of chicken and cut it up. Meat is expensive, so I only use a bit every day, if at all. Next, I wash and chop the vegetables and set them up on a plate. This way, I can easily throw everything together when I get home.

Usually, I'd go to school, but since school let out a week ago, I go to work. This is definitely a good thing since I don't have to talk at work. I don't like talking; it causes you to get close to people. After you get close to people, you become dependent on them, and you don't know it until they're taken away. If I don't talk or get close, I become independent, and I don't have to deal with any of the problems that come with it. Am I heartless? No. This actually comes in handy in times like the Reaping, which is next week. No one cares if I get Reaped, so no one gets hurt. I don't care if anyone else gets Reaped, so I don't get hurt. Besides, people are annoying anyway, always bugging you and poking their noses in your business. I like my life, thank you.

I grab a slice of bread to munch on as I walk, and I stuff a bit of bread and fruit, as well as a bottle of water, into a bag for lunch before quickly walking outside.

District Nine is a very spread-out district, divided into many little towns separated by miles of grain. Whenever we have to travel, it's a pain, but why would I need to travel. I walk down the wide dirt road, eyes on the road before me. People are beginning to come out for work, and I'd rather avoid eye contact. No reason to make someone feel obligated to say hello.

When I get to the mill where I work, I drop my bag off in the small employees' room and go to my station. My job is to take wheat from the stacks others bring in and feed them into the threshing machine. I know; it's exciting. Such is life in District Nine. Hazel, her wise, old face deep in thought, is already at work on the other side of the belt. She looks up and waves. I wave back. No words necessary.

 _ **Senwe Barric, 16, District Nine Male**_

I grab another sack of grain, rip it open, and pour it into the machine that grinds it into flour. Toss the empty bag, take another breath, and repeat. Kasha, a slightly younger girl workin' beside me, grunts and dumps another bag in.

"Whew," she says, "How much time do we wave left?"

I squint to try to read the clock on the other side of this huge room. "Umm… 'bout ten minutes."

"Thanks," she says before going back to her strange silence.

"Hey... Umm… You okay today?" I say, "You're quiet."

"I'm okay," she insists. She's obviously not okay. But with the Reapin's next week, I don't know if anyone's okay. The Reapin's. Our shame. The Capitol's way of shoving it in our faces that they can lord themselves over us and we can't do anything. A revolution would be nice. I'd be able to stop worryin' about being Reaped. I know it's not gonna happen, but the thought is nice.

"You don't need to hide it," I say, "I get it"

She looks at me. "No, you don't. You don't get it. You won't get it until someone you love gets Reaped."

"Sorry." The silence resumes. Her brother was Reaped a few years ago, and every year around this time, she gets quiet.

Th bell rings, signifyin' the end of the shift. Kasha leaves as quickly as she can, and I grab all the empty sacks to throw in the incinerator. I know; it's a waste, but we do as we're told. There's no use gettin' yourself killed.

When I step outside the factory, I prepare to go home, but Farro sees me and waves, so I walk over to him.

"Hey," I say, "What's up?"

"Maybe I should be asking you," he says, his perpetual smile, "Why so serious?"

I put on a smile. "Just some depressin' thoughts. You know, with the Games and all next week."

"Pshaw," he says, "Don't worry. Don't be so serious. What makes you think you'll be Reaped? Besides, don't waste your time on this."

I shrug, but before I can excuse myself, Sunnoria joins us.

"What'd I miss?" she says.

"Nothing," Farro replies, "Just Senwe here needing something to cheer him up."

"Oh please," I say, "I'm perfectly fine." I try to come up with some excuse to leave. "I'm kinda busy today; my father will probably be drinkin' away. Again. So I'd better get myself back home before it's too late."

"Sure thing. Are you going to be around tonight?" Farro asks.

"Nah, I don't think so. It's hard to get out of the house."

I say goodbye and leave. Don't get me wrong; they're not bad people. I don't hate them. But to me, life just kinda sucks. I work, I eat, I sleep. The Capitol's always watchin' me. I hear my father rant all the time, cussin' out the Capitol and sayin' stuff that'll get us killed. That means it's all probably true. I mean, if the Capitol doesn't like somethin', it's usually a threat to its power. And if it's a threat to its power, that somethin' is probably good for us.

Just the thought that I can be a threat makes me happy somehow. The Capitol loves to pretend we are nothin', but if it has to control us so harshly, we must have some power.

But that's never gonna happen. Most folks don't seem to get it. I think it's because we all want life to be good for us, and a rebellion is not good for us if you think short term.

I reach my house, an old wooden building that seems stable enough. I slowly push open the door, trying to avoid attention. My sister Gwenith is arguing with my mother. Again. I get it, my mother is strict, but seriously? When did arguing solve anything? I slip up the stairs and into my room, closing the door behind me.

In the end, I don't half mind the Reapin's. Sure, spare me the gore. But as long as I don't get Reaped, I'm fine.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. What do you think of Diara's attitude towards life? Is this beneficial or harmful?**

 **2\. Other than Senwe's name, what is interesting about his personality that makes him different from everyone we've seen so far?**

 **3\. Which one do you like more?**

 **4\. Submitters, how did I do?**

 **5\. Other than the length, how can I improve?**

 **ANNOUNCEMENT! The chapter lengths are going to get… unpredictable. I want to finish these ASAP, so though my goal is 1000 words per POV, I may not get there if I reach a good stopping point and/or get stuck. I don't want to spend forever on these, and neither do you.**

 **-0-**

 **ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT! I've said it before, but my collab with Nadinelikesbooks and shadowhunter824 is still going. It's almost complete; one chapter left, but all three of us would greatly appreciate it if you check it out and leave a review.**

 **-0-**

 **District Ten is next! My favorite District! That should give me enough motivation to write… I hope.**

 **Till next time,**

 **~Joseph**


	12. District Ten Non-Reapings

**A/N Early Update! I'm sorry if you don't agree, but District Ten is my favorite district. In other words, I've been thinking about these tributes for a long time. The format of this chapter is a little different...**

 **Just want to point something out… I got 2 reviews for the last chapter. It made me wonder if the website messed up or something, but I was a little disappointed. I'm not trying to be whiny, but reviews really do make me happy :).**

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male**_

"Anyone getting hungry?" I call to the group of twenty or so Capitolites following me. "Then you're in luck! We are now entering the tastiest section of District Ten's Central Market. As you can see, both sides of the street are lined with food stand after food stand. According to the bell tower-" I shade my eyes and squint, trying to read the time. "-It's about 1:30, so we'll meet back here in an hour to resume your tour. Enjoy the lunch. Oh, and by the way, if you like kabobs, look out for Francis' Kabobs, ninth stand on the left. Don't forget; be back here by when?"

"2:30!" the Capitolites reply.

"Correct! Now enjoy!"

I put down the megaphone and sigh a happy sigh. My job is to lead tourists from the Capitol through the confusing maze of streets that make up District Ten's famous street market. It's not like I need the money — my dad is Byron Derwin, the mayor of District Ten, so I've always had enough — but I enjoy the job. In the past few years, tourism has become a greater part of the economy of District Ten, and it's common to see people from the Capitol wandering around the district year-round, usually in the markets or at the birthplaces of previous victors. These Capitolites are usually rich anyway, and that means we're better off. We're happy, they're happy, we're all happy. Sounds like a good trade to me.

I push my way through the masses of people, making my way to the aforementioned food stand, and I smile when I see several of the tourists buying the kabobs. My girlfriend, Miracle Francis, is up front, handling the transactions, and when she sees me, she waves. Mira quickly finishes up with the last few customers, and she puts up the "On Break" sign as I walk nearer.

As soon as she's done arranging everything, I throw my arms around her and pull her into a hug.

"How's business today?" I ask.

"It's going really well! Thanks so much for the advertising! We've had almost a double in sales since you started doing that."

I smile. "It's nothing. It really is no big deal, serving the most beautiful lady in the world."

She blushes. "Oh please. C'mon, Mom can man the stand for a bit. Besides, we're about to switch anyway." I follow her into her house, where Mrs. Francis is washing a few dishes.

"Good day, Mrs. Francis," I say.

"Hello Angus," she says, beaming, "I'll get out front. You two enjoy the bit of peace for now."

Mira and I thank her, and she leaves us alone to eat. I open a drawer and get the silverware while Mira gets the noodles out of the oven. She lays it down on the table, which I set. We sit down to eat. Between bites, we chat.

"So," she says, "What's happened today. Meet any new personalities?"

"Hmm… there was the guy that didn't realize that honey comes from bees."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. He thought that they did that because of color."

Mira laughs. "It makes you wonder what they teach in Capitol schools."

"True."

All too soon, it draws near to 2:30, so I get up and wash my plate. She follows, and we exit the house and return to the stand, where business is still crazy.

"Okay," I say, "I'd better get back to the group. They'll flip if I'm not there."

"We're still meeting tonight in the park, right?" she says.

"Yes! I wouldn't miss it for anything."

She plants a kiss on my cheek. "I'll see you."

I kiss her back, but there's a sudden flash of light. I turn, and I see one of the tourists taking a photo. He gives me a thumbs up. So much for privacy.

"Hey, no big deal," Mira says. I smile and wave goodbye, but I can't help but feel that it does matter.

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

I stare at the wooden wall, and my eyes lower to the paper on the desk in front of me. The hour should be up soon, and the locked door will be opened. This is pretty normal now. When my father first began locking me in this room, I screamed and cried for him to let me out. It really doesn't get to me now. Ever since my mother died, my father has tried to be harder on me, but he knows that a guy like him can't be harsh. So, he locks me in this room with homework every time I get a grade lower than a 95% or whenever I fail some test at the Training Center. It's not really a punishment, really; I see it more as a way to forcibly remove all distractions in order to get homework done.

Still, some people think that locking up a girl is harsh, but I know that he's just as lost as I am. He thinks that I don't know, but I've seen him late at night, reading and rereading my mother's letter to him that she wrote before she died of some illness.

I hear the click of the door behind me, and I stand up. My father pushes open the door. When I look into his green eyes, I can still see a bit of the laid back, funny guy he used to be. I really miss him sometimes. This resigned silence isn't him.

"Didn't you have that chance for extra credit?" he says, "Go get that done. Do it with Augustina if you want to."

I nod and grab my backpack before venturing into District Ten's summer heat. I cut through the market to get to Augustina house, and I knock a few times. She opens the door. Augustina is my father's friend's daughter, and because she's so smart, my dad encourages me to spend more time with her, as if intelligence diffuses naturally.

"Hello, Star," she says, calm and proper as always.

"Hi," I say.

"Are you here to study?"

"Yes. Is June here?"

"She is upstairs. C'mon inside."

I follow her inside, up the stairs, and into her room, where June is working on the floor. I take out my papers and get to work.

My father's always emphasized education. I don't disagree with it, but sometimes, I kinda wish my life were more normal, without all these locked doors and pressures. I know I can't complain; I'm alive and well, and I've haven't been Reaped. I have enough of everything, and I have more than enough of somethings. But I can't help but feel that no one really understands me. My father only tries to push my limits. My "friends" only know me as a fellow classmate. If I get Reaped in the Reapings in four days, I don't know if there will be anyone that will cry for me.

We work until the sun is beginning to go down, and I excuse myself to go back home. I pick up a few vegetables in the market on my way home, and when I get home, I help my father prepare dinner.

As we eat in silence, I realize that as much as I tell myself that I'm happy being a loner, I'm just lying to myself.

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male**_

The sun went down an hour ago. I hurry out of my bedroom, down the lush stairs, and to the front door, where I slip on my shoes. I open the carved wooden door and step into the cool night air. The moon is shining, white and bright, and it's accented by the many stars. I close the door behind me, and I walk down the hill to the park where I'll meet Mira. Being the mayor's son has some perks, but it's so inconvenient every time we go anywhere because our house is separated from everything else.

I walk through the District Center, a huge square in front of the Justice Building, and I pause to look at the stately stone building, strong and rigid against the night sky. This is where I first met Mira. A few years back, her brother was Reaped. That very night, I found her kneeling at the stairs of the Justice Building, crying and trying to block out the world. Though we've gone a long way since then, I still try to avoid bringing up the Games in our conversations.

I continue walking until I reach the small park. It's not much — a grassy square lawn edged with trees and a few benches — but we're working on making District Ten greener. I spy Mira sitting on a bench, so I slide in beside her.

"The sky is nice tonight," she says.

I look up. "Yeah, it is." Pause.

"Why were you so upset earlier?" she asks, turning to look into my eyes.

"When?"

"When the Capitolite took that photo of us."

"I wasn't upset."

"You weren't happy."

"You're right," I say, dropping my gaze. "I wasn't."

"What was up? If you're going to be mayor someday, everything you do will be exposed."

I sigh. "I know. But I don't want to share you with the rest of Panem. I don't want to share our relationship with the entire world. I want this to be between us. I want to keep you."

She laughs her soft, dreamy laugh. "Don't worry," she says, giving me a peck on the cheek, "I'm yours."

We sit, listening to the crickets chirp.

"Angus?"

"Yes?"

"You…" She falters. "You aren't planning on volunteering in four days, are you?"

"No!" I say, a little too loudly, "I'm not planning to." I drop my voice. "But I don't know."

"What do you not know?" she says, "Are you actually thinking about it?"

"I don't want to."

"Then don't."

"It's not that simple," I explain. "Because my dad's the mayor, I'm expected to be that one that volunteers if no one else does."

"You know you don't have to."

"But I do," I say, "The poor already hate me. If I don't volunteer and a small kid goes in because of that, everyone will hate me. My dad would be so ashamed of me."

"I understand," she says, laying her head on my chest, "but I can't lose you too."

"I can't lose you either," I say. I kiss her on the lips. "This is my promise to you. I will always be here for you, though the good and the bad, the easy and the tough, until the Games do us part."

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

I lie in my bed, listening carefully. The minute my father begins to snore, I slowly get out of bed and tiptoe across the house and out the house. Once I'm out, I pick up my pace and walk to the nearby park, the best place in this area of the city for stargazing. The park's mostly empty tonight; there's only a couple sitting on a bench on the far side. I lie on my back and look up at the stars.

As always, I start by picking out the familiar. There's Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, the bears that are on the flag of District Ten. Lyra the lyre is up above, as is Dephinius the dolphin. My friends in the night sky are consistent; sometimes, I feel as if I know them personally.

But I watch stars for more than this. When I see the wide expanse of the night sky, everything seems to fall into its proper place, and I can get a proper perspective.

The Reaping is in four days. Though it seems right on the outside, the Reapings are so wrong. It helps keep the poor hating the rich because the poor end up in this unbreakable downward spiral. And why doesn't the Capitol have to do anything? That's how it always is; we supply everything, but the Capitol takes all. Personally, I think we need representatives in the Capitol with enough power to make decisions for the benefit of the districts. I know change will happen someday. Someday, people will feel the need for change.

I'll be waiting for that day.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. What do you think of Angus? How will his status in life affect his performance in the Games?  
**

 **2\. What do you think of Star? What do you think of her attitude towards life?**

 **3\. Which do you like more?**

 **4\. How can I improve here?**

 **5\. Submitters (If you're still reading), how did I do?**

 **I have nothing else to say, so Bye!**

 **~Joseph**


	13. District Eleven Non-Reapings

**A/N I know I'm late… Here's my explanation. You guys are awesome, and you deserve one. So, several times, I sat down with my laptop and though, "I'm going to write." Unfortunately, life (specifically YouTube) had… other plans for me. I'm such a distracted person; let's hope that D12 comes out faster. Also, I did slightly tweak both tributes.**

 **ALSO, MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm currently debating between two characters for victor since they both fit, and I'm also trying to decide who to kill in the bloodbath. If you are a submitter, please drop a line in a review and let me know you're reading. I don't want to kill your character just because I think you're not reading. My kill system isn't purely based off of this, but if I have to choose between a character with an active submitter and one whose submitter has disappeared, I will kill the one without a submitter reading. It's my way of rewarding my loyal readers. Now, on with the chapter.**

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17 Years Old, District Eleven Male**_

I follow Grover in a mad dash through the orchard, holding tightly to the bag of fruit in my right hand. I'd hate to lose it after all this trouble. He makes a sharp turn left, into an alley between two storage buildings, and I follow. From here, we can still hear the sounds of the Peacekeepers coming after us. If we're caught, we're dead — literally. Trust me; I know. You never forget it when your little brother gets shot. Grover scampers up a ladder and peeks over the top of the building for just a second before jumping down.

"I've got it," he says, "C'mon. If we don't hurry, the trucks are gonna leave and we'll be stuck out here all night."

I nod, and we're off again. We take a few more loops to get the Peacekeepers off our trail, and then we join the masses of people at the station.

In Eleven, most people live in the central city — like we do — or in one of the outlying towns. To get to work every day,we get packed into these tractor-trailers that act as our transportation. It's not ideal since there's standing room only, but it works.

We jostle our way through the crowd and squeeze into a truck right before Peacekeepers close the door and we're covered in darkness. The weak lights flicker on.

"What was that for?" I burst out.

"What? I do it all the time," he says, nonchalant.

"Why did you have to get me involved?" I say.

"You like fresh fruit, right?"

"But-"

"Oh come on. No big deal. We're alive. They don't know who we are. Everything's fine."

I give up and stare at the dirty, flimsy florescent lights attached to the ceiling. Grover is risky and does what he wants. But me? Not so much. Sure, I think the Games and the Capitol are despicable, but it doesn't mean that I'll throw my life on the line to do anything against them. I'm not going to willingly go near death just for a bag of fruit.

Soon, the truck begins to slow down, and it comes to an abrupt stop with a jolt. Peacekeepers open the door, filling our ears with clanging and banging, and we step out of the truck, staying with the crowd to avoid detection. District Eleven is a highly populated district, so unless we do something stupid, we'll go undetected.

"Where are you heading to?" I ask.

"I'm heading to Magnolia's," he says, "Share some with them. Heaven knows how hard she has to work to support herself and her grandma."

Magnolia. Just her name makes me feel warm inside. Not that anyone knows — I hope. He's giving some fruit to her. But is there enough?

Because we all live in Sector 3, we head in the same direction.

"Let me give you some of my oranges, " I say, "You need some for your family too."

"Nah," he says, waving it off, "We don't need it that much."

"I insist," I say, "Besides, if it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead."

He laughs, his booming laughter echoing off the buildings. "If it weren't for me," he says, still laughing, "You'd be perfectly fine. It would've just been another average day. Remember? I got you into that mess."

"Fine, you're right," I say, "But take some."

He looks at me. "Okay then," he says, "I'll take some."

I add fruit to his bag until it's full. "Thanks," I say. What am I saying? That doesn't make much sense.

He looks at me funny, and I shrug it off. "It's nothing."

We stop in front of Magnolia's house, and Grover knocks on the door. I hold my breath. I hope she's home.

The door cautiously opens, and I see her tall, slender form. She's wearing a dirty pink shirt and faded pants. It's not much compared to even the merchants, but she's beautiful to me. Grover says goodbye to me and steps into her house. She doesn't let many people in, but Grover is one of them.

Before she closes the door, I wave to her, not trusting my voice. She waves back and shuts the door.

She waved back! I see her in the fields sometimes, and whenever I greet her or wave, she usually ignores me. She responded today. I stand staring as she closes the door.

That was probably weird. I hope she didn't pay attention to that.

I walk home, whistling and smiling and in an all-around good mood. Could this be a beginning? I hope so.

I begin to walk home, but I can't shake the feeling that I forgot something. I reach my house, fish the key out of my pocket, and unlock the door. When I step in, I see Tyler sitting at our table. That's what I forgot; we were supposed to study together.

"Where have you been?" he asks, "I—" He stops, seeing the bag of fruit. "Y'know? I don't wanna know."

I smile and put the fruit in the kitchen. "Yeah," I say, "I'm just gonna say that it was an experience I never want to have again."

 _ **Magnolia Beaux, 17, District Eleven Female**_

I lift the lid of the pot and poke around with the spatula. Yes, the vegetables are done. I remove the pot from the heat and place it down on a cloth to keep it from burning the table. Someone knocks on the door. I walk out of the kitchen, through the main room where Grandma Eden is sewing, and to the front door.

I open the door, and I see Grover, standing with one of his other friends, holding a bag of fruit. I step to the side to let him in. Before I close the door, his friend waves. I wave back. He knows Grover, so I know I have nothing to worry about. What do I mean by worrying? Let's just say that most people aren't too friendly with a daughter of a whore. No one says anything, but I know what it is. It's as if I'll be a bad influence. Yeah right. Anyway, I try to ignore most people. Sometimes I pretend I'm shy or scared. That way, people leave me alone. I don't have to deal with them, they don't have to deal with me.

Note that I said "most" people. There are some people I know I trust, such as Grover, who is in the kitchen. I walk back to the kitchen.

"You did it again," I say.

"Yeah," he says, "And I know you're happy. Don't deny it."

I smile. "You're right." I grab an orange. "They're ripe," I comment.

"Yes," he says, "I managed to find ripe ones this time. No need for ripening them this time."

"Thank you so much," I say, examining the fruit. That'll be nice tonight. I gave up on trying to refuse Grover's help a long time ago; I quickly discovered that there was no way I could stop him from helping.

"Oh, by the way," he says. "Polina will be here soon."

"Oh?"

"She seemed pretty excited."

I laugh. "She's always excited. She wouldn't be Polina if she weren't hyper!"

He smiles.

"Why's she coming over?" I ask.

"You know her," he says, "She asked so I told her that I was going to be here. She decided to come."

Polina's an only child, but unlike me, she has to be around people. So, she finds us. There's a knock on the door, I go over and let her in. She pretty much bounces in and greets Grandma Eden, who just smiles, and we gather in the kitchen.

"So, did y'all hear about it?" she says, bursting with energy and excitement.

" 'Bout what?" Grover replies.

"The new laws!" she says, getting up from her chair and moving to the other side of the kitchen. She has a severe case of ADHD, so she's always moving. "President Romulus Snow may be the nicest guy we've got so far."

"What laws?"

"The minimum wage was raised!" she nearly shouts, "I know it's only by a bit per week, but think about it! In one year, that really adds up! And he's added a maximum hours per day!"

Grover curses. "Seriously?"

"Yes!" she insists. "Do you realize what's going on? This is the first time the Capitol has ever done anything to HELP us! If you check the history books, this is unheard of!"

I sputter, trying to find words. "How— why— when—! Do you actually think they'll implement the laws?"

"Don't they have to?" Polina says, "I told you, this world isn't all bad."

"But what about the Games," I say, "They're not disappearing anytime soon. The Capitol is still lording it over us. They only created these laws to keep us happy for now."

"But this is a step in the right direction," Polina says.

"I'm sorry; I'm not positive enough to believe it," I say. It's true. We live in a cruel world. In the end, the Capitol's greatest concern is itself.

A few hours later, I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Grandma Eden, who is back on her rocking chair. It's now dark outside.

"Grandma?" I say.

"Yes, darlin'?"

"What do you think of the new laws?" I venture.

She pauses and thinks. "It's a tough one. It's hard to tell, really. I've never even heard of something like this. I hope it's true."  
"I would be able to be home more. And I would be able to provide better."

"Don't worry about providing for the both of us," she says, "You're doing just fine."

"But I have to," I say, "It's only right. You took me in because mom and dad couldn't. Now that you can't work, it's only right for me to provide for you and make sure you're happy."

I stare at the night sky through the dirty windows. The moonlight manages to penetrate the layer of filth. Life is kind of like that. The world is dirty, but some kindness always manages to pass through. Sure, that's nice, but that isn't it. Unlike the moonlight, uncorrupted and bright, this world is so corrupted. People in power abuse their power and exploit those they were supposed to help. If we give all of us to the world, it will corrupt all of us. I think that's the major reason I don't like people. Think of it as protection.

Still, despite all of this, I still hope.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Hirst: Thoughts? How do you feel about him? Do you want him to make it far? How will his unique aspect play out in the Games?**

 **2\. Magnolia: What do you think about… her? Her attitude towards life? Her attitude towards the Capitol? How will she interact with Hirst?**

 **3\. About the Capitol (In Magnolia's POV), what do you think is true? Am I foreshadowing anything?**

 **4\. HOW EXCITED ARE YOU TO SEE THE END OF THE NON-REAPINGS?**

 **And by the way, please don't hate on the relationship between Hirst and Magnolia. A lot of it was created by yours truly.**

 **See y'all in D12!**

 **~Joseph**


	14. District Twelve Non-Reapings

**A/N IT'S HERE! IT'S ONE HOUR LATE BUT IT'S HERE. DISTRICT TWELVE, HERE WE ARE.**

 _ **Jessamine Hale, 14, District Twelve Female**_

Every morning, at about 8, the sun shines through the window and hits my bed. This is exactly what wakes me up. I sit up and rub my eyes before stretching. I look out the window. It's interesting really. On the left side is the town, which is nice in its own right, but on the right side is Victor's Village, which makes even the town look shabby. And if they look nice on the outside, with their clean windows and blooming shrubs, they look even nicer on the inside. Trust me; I know. After all, my dad and I live off of cleaning those houses. And they look nice. Those houses are two floors with an attic and a basement; we now have one floor. I know that my dad's old house in the Capitol had two floors, but that was before he and my mom moved here. The Capitol hired them to clean the Victor's Village here.

The delicious smell of bacon and eggs wafts into the room, so I get up and go to the bathroom to wash my face and comb my hair. When I'm done, I go to the kitchen to eat. My dad is taking bread out from the oven, and when he sees me, he puts down the food and wraps me in a big hug.

"Mornin' ," he says, and I squeeze him tighter. He's a little on edge because of the reapings today, but I don't worry much. I don't even know if my name is in the bowl; I'm technically still a citizen of the Capitol.

We sit down to eat. Because we have relatives in the Capitol, we get more than the rest of District Twelve. We occasionally get packages of food and other things, so our life here is pretty nice.

I finish my plate, wash it, and put it up to dry.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I'll go visit Kiera before the reaping, ok?"

"That's good. Make sure she isn't too busy."

"Okay."

I leave the house and skip up the road into Victor's Village. It's not a bad day today. The sun is shining, but there's a breeze so it isn't too hot. I walk up the red brick stairs of a red brick house and knock on the beautifully carved door. A few moments later, I hear the click of the door unlocking, so I open the door. She has buttons around the house that unlock the front door because she hates having to get up and come to the door.

"Come in," she calls. Kiera Isenham is the most recent Victor from District Twelve. She won… about 40 years ago, and she usually mentors alone because the only other Victor is ninety-year-old Jokthan Telfour, who's probably going to die soon. I call He by her first name because she says that calling her Ms. Isenham sounds too formal.

I find her at the dining table, finishing one of her handkerchiefs. Embroidery is her talent, and unlike some of the other Victors, she genuinely enjoys it.

I run up to her and give her a hug.

"What are you making?" I ask.

"Oh, you know. Just more handkerchiefs. I've told you that it helps relieve stress."

"That's nice, " I say, "Are you busy?"

She laughs. "I should be, but those Capitol stylists and throw a fit when they get here for all I care."

I smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"I'm okay," I say, "Do you think my name is in the Reaping? I mean, I'm not even a citizen of District Twelve."

She shrugs. "Maybe. I don't know. You shouldn't be in the Reaping Bowl, but since these are the Hunger Games, there's no way of knowing."

"Oh."

She puts the handkerchief down and begins to clean up her needles and other tools. It's a beautiful pattern; flowers and leaves are embroidered as a border, and there's a pink orchid in the middle.

"That's beautiful," I comment.

"You like it?"

"It's so good."

She holds it up to me. "Then take it," she says.

"Oh no, I cou–"

"Take it. I make enough. Take it for good luck or something."

I gingerly take it from her hand, running my finger over the pattern. She smiles.

There's loud knocking on the door.

"Here they come," she sighs, "I should go greet them. You should prepare for the reapings too."

"Okay," I say, "Thank you for the handkerchief."

"No problem."

She gives me a hug, and I leave through the back door. It's easier not to deal with the stylists. Sure, my dad is from the Capitol, but I'm not used to the weird fashions. He wasn't one of them anyway; he was one of the poor ones.

The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I walk home. Clouds have begun to appear in the edges of the bright blue sky. I'm pretty sure these mean rain. As I'm leaving Victor's Village, I pick a few poppies that grow wild around here. These will look nice on the dining table. When I get home, I quickly shower and change into a pick dress for the Reapings. The clouds have almost completely covered the sky by now, and there's a seriousness that is apparent in everything as we walk to the town square.

As the bells ring, announcing the beginning of the reaping, there's a huge flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder.

Somehow, I feel that things aren't going to go well.

 _ **Amos Breckenridge, 13, District Twelve Male**_

The horizon has just begun to brighten, but I'm already up. I roll off my wooden bed onto the hard floor. Fine, I'm up. I rub my head and fold my blanket. I can hear my mom cooking in the other room; my dad is probably at the table. It's easy to know what's going on in our little two-roomed house. In the bed next to mine, Raven is still sleeping. He's snuggled in his blanket, his forehead covered in sweat. This is his first reaping. He doesn't deserve this; he's damaged enough. Careful to not wake him up, I push up his sleeve. There's a new scar. I run my finger around the scar. Twelve years old is too young to begin cutting yourself. Worst is how I can't protect him. I couldn't protect Maude in any way, and now I'm failing to keep him safe.

I wish I didn't have to wake him up, but money is money. I pull his sleeve back down and shake him.

"Hey, Raven, wake up."

He rolls over.

"C'mon, wake up. We've got some work to do before the reaping today."

He sits up and rubs his eyes. "Yeah?"

"We have to clean the Robinson's house."

He groans, gets out of bed, and goes to wash his face. He grabs a small chunk of stale bread. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

We grab a few cleaning supplies before leaving the house, and we walk toward the Town. They're the only ones that can afford this anyway. There's a very clear spot where the Seam ends and the Town begins, and it's almost like being in a different world. The houses are clearly sturdier, and the streets are relatively clean. I'm now surrounded by people with blonde hair and blue eyes, all wearing clothes better than mine. I used to be self-conscious, but now I just walk by in cold silence. Things between the two groups are almost never pretty, and since Maude died, I've learned to ignore the Townsfolk—Well, except for our customers. As much as I dislike the Town, I can't say I dislike their money. If I were a good person, I'd care about the people too, but I'm not a good person. Good people don't last long in the society of hate and distrust in District Twelve.

We approach the back door of the Robinson house. It's an unspoken policy of ours. When we clean houses in Town, we always enter through the back door. There's no use causing a scene.

I knock on the door. Mr. Robinson, a tall stern man, opens it.

"Hello, sir," I say. He steps to the side to let us in. "Is there anyone else in the house?"

"No. Be done before the reaping, okay?"

"Yes sir," we say. He might seem strict, but at least he's cordial. Most Townsfolk can't give us that much. He leaves, probably for some business, and we're left in charge of the house. Most first-time customers are suspicious, but we've been cleaning for him for so long that he trusts us. I don't plan on breaking that trust by stealing. I'd lose money in the long run by stealing.

Raven begins in the kitchen while I go upstairs to clean the rooms. First Mr. and Mrs. Robinson's, and then their daughters. As I'm cleaning, I see a new book on the bookshelf titled Beyond. We don't have the money for books, so I pick it up and begin to read. It's the story of a girl, trapped both by physical walls but also by expectations. This is actually pretty good…

"Amos!" Raven calls.

"Yeah?"

"I'm done down here. You?'

"Umm…" I look down at my book. "Just take everything you have down there home. I have some stuff to finish."

"Okay."

Back to the book.

Bells. Bells from the Town Square. My eyes snap up to the clock. If I'm not at the Reaping, I'm dead. Half an hour left. I'm such a horrible, irresponsible idiot! What kind of a fool was I, stopping to read the norming of the reaping? I slam the book shut and replace it on the table. I quickly finish up this last room and take the supplies and put them in a side alley. After making sure they're secure, I run for the reaping. I almost slam into the sign-in table, panting and gasping for air. I look at myself and see that my clothes are dirty and old, but I've got no other option.

When did the sky get so cloudy? I swear, it's going to rain.

I look around, and I see my dad, steaming with barely controlled anger and worry. He probably thinks I got killed by the "Capitol-b*tch Townies," as he calls him. Ever since they were the ones to kill Maude, he hasn't taken it well. Not to say that I have. It was easily preventable. She was too kind, too nice. If I had just offered to go fetch the supplies, she would be alive. I just had to let her go. After that, it was wrong place, wrong time.

I wave at my dad, trying to get his attention. He glances in my direction, and he sees me. His face immediately relaxes, and I make my way to my section.

The bells ring to begin the reaping.

There's a strike of lightning and a peal of thunder. Some of the younger girls behind me are beginning to cry. The weather isn't helping.

Everything's about to go downhill; I just know it.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Jessamine. Thoughts? Predictions? Feelings about her personality?**

 **2\. Amos. Thoughts? Feelings about his opinion of himself? Predictions?**

 **3\. Which do you like more?**

 **4\. All the tributes have been introduced. Which one do you want to win? Who do you think will win?**

 **5\. If one of them could be your friend, which one would it be? Why?**

 **A/N THE NON-REAPINGS ARE DONE! Let's have a moment of silence to commemorate this occasion.**

…

…

…

 **Okay. So, the tributes have been introduced. The next chapter will be a single reaping chapter done from an outside POV that will become more prominent in this trilogy. I can't wait! A poll will be going up after the next chapter.**

 **Over and out,**

 **~Joseph**


	15. The Reapings (Recaps)

**A/N A wild update appeared!... wait. Wrong fandom. Hehe. Anyway, I've had so many ideas for this story; you have no idea. The tributes are now finally getting in the story, and the updates will probably be a lot more frequent.**

 **Also, if you've noticed, the guy's name is centered instead of aligned left. I'll be doing this for non-tributes from now on.**

 _ **Velleius Essault, 36 Years Old, Capitol Citizen**_

I put the paper down on the table and look up at the clock on the wall. It's almost eight at night. The recaps of the reapings are about to begin. By now, most of the Capitolians have seen them already — watched them live as they happened throughout the day, but I don't get off my post until 6 PM. As a Peacekeeper in the Capitol, my schedule is a bit different from the Capitolians, but I can live with it. Us Districtos don't get everything they do.

I get up and go to the living room, where my four-year-old son Cyprian is playing with blocks on the red rug. When I walk in, he turns to look at me and proudly points to what he's been building.

"What is it, Cy?" I say.

" A hofercraft!" he says excitedly, "The people are going in." He takes a little figure of a plastic soldier and puts it in the hovercraft. "See?"

"Cool," I say, sitting down on the sofa. I grab the remote, and Cy gets up and comes to sit on my lap. I turn the television on — Yes, we have televisions. We can't afford the screens that Capitolians can — and I turn to Channel 1, where the recaps will be playing.

I check my watch. Five more minutes. Right now, it's some fashion news show? Based on what's on TV, I'd be willing to bet that the Districts think everyone in the Capitol is rich and spend their money on fashion and frivolous things. That couldn't be further from the truth.

Like the Districts, there are social classes within the Capitol — the Capitolians and the Districtos. The Capitolians are the ones that have everything, and their ancestors lived in or moved to the Capitol long before the Dark Days, probably soon after the creation of the Capitol. They make up a little less than half of the population here. The rest of us are Districtos. Our ancestors moved in after the creation and division of the Districts but before the travel restrictions enacted during the Dark Days. For example, I have distant relatives in District Three. We have to work hard for everything, taking what jobs we can find, though the lucky or exceptionally skilled might get jobs usually reserved for Capitolians. We often don't have much of a choice in our occupation. I didn't want to become a Peacekeeper — the boring-est job in the Capitol — but debt forced me to enlist. I barely make enough money to support myself and my family.

Fanfare blares from the television, and the announcer, Marcus Flickerman — descendant of Caesar Flickerman's uncle — greets the nation.

"Good evening Panem!" he says he says, bringing out thunderous applause. "Today, our twenty-four tributes were chosen. Today, twenty-four tributes had their lives changed forever. Welcome to the beginning for the nine hundred ninety-eighth Hunger Games!"

The live audience screams, cheers, and applauds. Cy claps too.

"Now, though many of you have been watching them today, we are now getting our first look at many of the tributes! Let's roll!"

He takes his seat to the side of the screen, and the recaps begin with District One.

District One's Square is even nicer than the Districto sectors of the Capitol. The escort, the ever-flamboyant Alexandria Centhus, is barely able to read the Reaped girl's name aloud before the dash for the stage begins. However, it ends almost as soon as it begins. An agile, quick girl introduces herself as Aria Sierra and promises to do her best. She seems nice; grounded in reality but determined to win. She pulls the boy's name out, but no one expects the crazy battle for the stage. A fast seventeen-year-old manages to make it to the front of a pack and onto the edge of the stage, but an eighteen-year-old grabs a small dead branch and throws it, tripping the fast one. The eighteen-year-old catches up and shoves him off the stage into the pack before strutting to the mic.

"The name's Imperial Gallium," he says, "I'm going to win. Remember to buy from Agau, the best jewelry you'll ever find." I can't help but smile. He's got a nice sense of humor.

District Two is nowhere as interesting as District One. The girl is standard for her District other than the fact that she's the granddaughter of a victor, and the boy seems to get to the stage by pure determination alone.

I pay special attention to District Three. The girl gets emotional, which is pretty normal, but the guy refuses to budge. Peacekeepers drag him to the stage, and he still fights the whole way up. District Three isn't winning this year.

The girl from District Four cocks her head and walks to the stage, keeping her chin in the air and glaring defiantly at the escort. Surprising, there's a male volunteer. When he introduces himself as Creek Langston, he seems confident, but his eyebrows are twitching and I see his nervousness underneath his confident mask.

I swear that the girl from District Five is high on some kind of drug, but where does she have the money? The harsh realization of what happened is going to hit her hard. Her District partner is completely unreactive — he stares the escort straight in the eye, unflinching and unwavering.

The girl from District Six stumbles up, shaking and frightened. She barely squeaks out a few words when the escort tries to talk to her. The guy seems soft; he looks too kind for this.

When a fifteen-year-old girl is called in District Seven, there's a moment of silence before an older girl volunteers, her brown hair wildly flying in the air. She isn't going to take crap from anyone. A twelve-year-old boy is Reaped — the Reaping are definitely rigged to force volunteers — and all we hear is the howling wind. The boy walks up slowly — slow enough to make Marcus Flickerman impatient — and when he's standing in front of everyone, the desperate escort calls for volunteers.

Silence.

She calls again.

Silence.

She calls a final time, but this time, a voice calls, "I volunteer." He introduces himself as Alder Blackwood.

District Eight is nothing special; the boy is lanky and weak, and the girl is too shocked to react in any other way.

In District Nine, a defiant, decisive girl is called. She stomps her way up to the stage. The boy speaks with an accent, and he definitely doesn't seem too happy. District Nine is angry this year.

The girl from District Ten is older, so there's no volunteer. The guy that volunteers is the mayor's son, and he's barely able to hold himself together when there's a cry from the crowd. Probably his girlfriend.

In District Eleven, a shy girl is Reaped. Her partner seems to know her, and he can't take his eyes off of her.

Finally, in District Twelve, a small blonde girl and a small, serious boy are Reaped. They won't last long.

As soon as the clips are over, Marcus takes the stage again.

"And these are our tributes! They'll be pulling into the Capitol today or tomorrow, and I sure can't wait. Don't forget to stay tuned for the latest Hunger Games news! This is Marcus Flickerman, signing off on Channel One."

Cy claps with the crowd, and I just sit. I'm not the hugest fan of the Games, but anyone that doesn't know what's going on is viewed with suspicion, especially us Districtos. I hug Cy and squeeze him in my arms.

I'm just glad he'll never have to go through the reaping.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. What do you think about Velleius? What role in the trilogy do you think he'll play?**

 **2\. How do you feel about the Capitol? How does it differ from your initial idea?**

 **3\. Based on these reapings, which tributes do you think will do better?**

 **4\. I've changed much of the pre-games. Any predictions/expectations?**

 **By the way, if you're not reviewing because you're afraid of giving me a shorter review, please just do it. Soon, the chapters will pile up.**

 **See y'all,**

 **~Joseph**


	16. Trains and Chariots

**A/N Sorry for the slightly late update. I have about half an hour per day for writing now, so it takes a while. Apparently, there's a review glitch going on, so I hope reviews show up.**

 **Here's the plan. After this chapter, there'll be five more Pre-Game chapters with four POVs per chapter. This way, everyone will get a POV before the games. Enjoy!**

 _ **Zash Kamzoil, 15, District Eight Male**_

The door slams shut, leaving me with silence. My parents have just left, and I'm all alone in the visitation room in the Justice Building. I stare at the richly engraved door. The escort should be here to get me soon.

 _The hero balls his hands into fists. He's been captured, but he refuses to give up. Trapped in a plushy jail cell, he stands in the middle of the blue rug, waiting for the doors to open. He hears the clack, clack, clack of the jailer, coming to move him from one prison to another. The clacking gets louder… and then louder. It stops outside the door. The hero stands resolute. The doorknob turns. The hero prepares to lunge for his captor and make an escape. The door opens…_

And I stand, frozen, staring at my escort, Xanthia Marcellinius. If I were bold, heroic, and daring, I would tackle her and run. But the one thing I'm not is stupid. So I stand.

"Time to go," she trills, "The train is waiting!"

I follow her silently.

 _The hero walks wordlessly. He won't speak. He refuses to speak to the woman that is bringing him to his death. She chatters the entire way about how bad his living conditions are going to be, rubbing in the fact that he's doomed._

"..and you'll have an entire room to yourself! Your own, nice, big bed! I heard that so many of you in your District sleep on wooden pallets! Can you imagine that? Sleeping on wood! Ugh! No wonder everyone here is so sickly. And you have the best food! Seafood and meat and everything you could ever imagine! And…"

I resist the urge to facepalm.

 _The hero and his captor approach the train, a huge, ominous machine with dark smoke belching from the smoke stack, covering the sun and choking everyone with its noxious fumes._

"Here's the train!" she says. It's a shiny, sleek vehicle, gleaming in the rays of the sun that penetrate the thick smog.

 _His captor leads him into the train and sits him down on a chair. She puts on a fake smile and mockingly asks if he wants anything to eat or drink. He resists all of his efforts to crack him. He refuses to crack. He refuses to fold._

"Would you like anything to drink?" she says after sitting me down at the table, "Just say the word, and an Avox will bring you whatever you want. Just ask!"

I seal my mouth. A hero doesn't give in.

"Are you sure? Lemonade? Soda? Sparkling water? Fruit Juice?"

So many exotic drinks… It does sound nice... I fold. "Um… Uh… Maybe a… umm… Lemonade?"

"Sounds good!" She calls an Avox and tells him to get a glass of lemonade. "It should be here shortly."

Why am I so weak? Why do I play along? She tries to start a conversation, but I refuse to speak. She asks about my family. I refuse to tell her anything. She asks about my education. Why should I tell her. She asks about my hobbies. Then what I think about small children.

"I really like small children," I blurt, "I- I tell them stories."

Oops.

I gotta get out. I can't let them think I-, I endorse them, can I? I abruptly get up and leave, storming past an Avox holding a glass of lemonade. I hear Xanthia calling after me.

 _The hero charges down the corridors of the prison, going past room after room. He hears his captor calling after him. He speeds up — runs — and turns left into a room. He slams the door behind him and turns the lock. He—_

No, I can't do this. I'm not heroic in any way. I'm not strong or brave enough to run, and I'm not stubborn enough to keep myself— Ugh.

I bang my head back against the door, trying to get my own thoughts out of my head. I want to scream at myself—I can't. I'm not heroic. I'm not strong. I'm not stubborn.

I'm not a victor.

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female**_

I stare out the window of the dining car, staring at the big blue ocean. The train is on the coastal track, so I get a long stretch of water. I wish I could jump into that expanse of free, wild water. The waves are larger today, as if taunting me, telling me that they're free while I'm trapped on this train.

I used to wonder what I'd be like if I got Reaped. I always thought that I'd be furious and raging, but I'm calm. I know why; it must be Rosemary. The way she spoke, the way she kissed me before the Peacekeepers tore her away, her final words. Her words still echo in my head.

"Win," she said, "Not just for us. Win for District Four."

And that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to win for my district, for my home. I'm going to win and work for our freedom.

Footsteps.

I turn around, and I see Creek, my district partner.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey. Why are you here."

"I… I thought I might want to get to know my district partner."

"Fair enough," I say, "I'll ask the first question."

"Fine by me."

I look at him. "Why did you volunteer? Do you have a death wish?"

He gives a weak laugh. "No," he says, "Not really."

"Then why?"

"I did it for our district."

"For our district?" I ask, my mind swirling with possibilities. Could he be one of us? If he is, he's much braver than I am.

"Yeah. We were rich before all the rebellions. I want to make District Four great again. You know, like it used to be."  
"You're saying…"

"I'm just saying that we need to return to the Capitol. We were rich! We were prosperous! These rebels have destroyed us."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Rebels destroyed us? Last time I checked, the Capitol bombed us."

"So you're… one of those," he says, "Can't you see? The Capitol has to punish Four because of idiots like you!"

"But there would be no one punishing us if we weren't being constantly subjugated!" I say, my voice rising, "If we were independent, we wouldn't have to worry about stuff like this."

"But we'd have to worry about other stuff!" he says, matching my tone, "Do you realize how much of our food is supplied by the Capitol? Most of it! We'd starve without them! Without their technology, Nine and Eleven wouldn't be able to produce what they do! Why can't you see?"

"Why can't _you_ see?" I shoot back, "The Capitol provides nothing!"

"You two! Stop this insolent fighting!" Our escort, Apolliana Silanus, runs in (amazing how she does that in her heels) and puts her hands up. "Stop this!" She looks at Creek and puts a hand on his arm. He pulls back. She's lucky she didn't try to touch me; she wouldn't be intact right now. "Come on, dear. You two are District partners! Don't fight! You two are supposed to work together!"

"Not with this idiot," he says.

She looks at me, pleadingly.

"Nope," I say coldly.

"Ugh!" she says, frustrated, "Fine! I hope your mentors will be able to talk some sense into you two!" She stomps out, leaving silence in her wake.

"Well then," he says after a few moments, "I wish you luck."

With that, he strides out of the dining car.

 _ **Jessamine Hale, 14, District Twelve**_

Amos and I sit at the dinner table, waiting for Kiera (our mentor) to show up. I hope she's okay. I rub the handkerchief she made between my fingers. I feel like the realization of what just happened is finally setting in. When I first got on the train, it didn't make sense. I couldn't imagine that my name was in the bowl, let alone picked. I drum my fingers and look at Amos. He's younger than me by only one year, but he looks even younger. The escort, Dominica Caepio offers me some fruit. She's new this year, and she seems nervous.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I'm not hungry."

She frowns. "But it's getting late!"

"I'm fine, thank you," I say, "After that splendid lunch, I'm fine."

She smiles at me. "Your manners are lovely!"

"Thank you, my daddy taught me."

She smiles larger.

"Umm," I start, "Is Kiera okay?" I really hope she's fine.

"I'll check on Ms. Isenham," she says. She gets up and tiptoes out of the room on her heels.

Amos looks at me. "You know Kiera?"

I nod. "Yes, My daddy and I clean the Victor's houses."

"Oh."

He settles for silence, listening to the faint sound of the train on the tracks. There's a muffled cry from a car or two down.

I spring up and run in the direction as best as I can, though the train makes moving a little harder. The train goes around a bend, and I support myself on the wall. I push open a door.

"Kiera!" I gasp. She's trying to walk, but she's wracked by sobs. Dominica seems lost. I run to her and hug her.

"Jessamine!" she says, hugging me back. "I- I'm so sorry. "

I shush her. "No, it's not your fault."  
She just shakes her head.

"It's okay," I say. I doubt she believes me, but I say it anyway. I let her cry until she's calmed down. "Come on, we need to eat. We need you."

"Yes," she says, mostly calm now, "Let's go."

We walk back to the dining car, and she takes a seat.

"Now we can eat!" Dominica says. She turns to call the Avoxes, who bring plate after plate of food. Amos looks overwhelmed by this show of food only a few hours after a huge lunch, and he looks like he's trying to control himself. Unsuccessfully, of course. Kiera doesn't eat.

"Now," she says, "I will tell you one thing right now." She looks at me with a pained expression. "You are young, so your odds are not good. They're even worse as you're from District Twelve."

Amos' fork clatters to the table. "So we're dead."

"No, not necessarily. But with your odds so low, you'll definitely die if you think that way."

Amos picks up his fork and continues eating, albeit nervously.

She continues, and I can see the fire in her eyes returning. "Now, we're about to reach the Capitol, and you'll be 'cleaned up' and dressed up. It's simple. The more you're like them, the more they'll like you. District One has a clear advantage in this, but we're not going down just yet. Do you understand."

We nod.

"Then good. Eat up. You're going to need it."

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17, District Eleven Male**_

My stylist adjusts the folds of cloth around me. It's been at least an hour since we arrived in the Capitol, and I've been in this cold white room the entire time. First the prep team "cleaned me up," trimming my bodily hair and dousing me with chemicals. Apparently, the word "chemicals" has a positive meaning attached to it here. Back home, it refers to the toxins we spray on the plants. Even hearing the work makes me nervous. A few weeks ago, my neighbor's young girl died after ingesting the pesticides. This probably isn't the best thing to think about right now.

I hum a folk song to get my mind off of things.

The stylist turns me around to face the mirror. "Voila!" she exclaims. "Your costume! What do you think?"

I'm pretty sure this is supposed to represent a bounty of food. I'm dressed in a dull gold-brown tunic, the color of dried grass and dried grain. There's a cape behind me, and everything is covered with fake food. Apples and peaches form the belt, and leaves run down the cape. The folds of the tunic are full of miniature fruits. At some point, this must've looked good. Well, that was at some point. It just looks overdone and idiotic now.

My stylist takes my silence to be approval, and she marches me down the hall and down the stairs into the courtyard where the chariots are waiting. My stylist helps me onto the chariot. Magnolia is nowhere to be seen. I've been trying to talk to her the entire way here, but she's mostly ignored me. She did say a bit, though. It made me feel so warm inside. I smile just thinking about it.

"Um, excuse me?" I say. "Where's Magnolia?"

"Who?" she says, completely confused. How is this even possible? My stylist doesn't know who my district partner is. Just goes to show how less they care about us. They don't care about us; they don't deserve any of my kindness.

'My district partner," I say in an exasperated tone.

"Oh! Her!" she says. "I don't know. Why should I know?"

I sigh and look around. The elevators open, and a Capitol man comes out leading… Magnolia. If I thought my costume was overdone, her costume is way over the top. She has a huge headdress of wheat (which is supposed to be District Nine) and berries, and her dress is heavy with more of the fake fruit. She doesn't look too happy. Her stylist helps her get on our chariot, and as soon as she's steady, she glares at her stylist, who backs off. Our stylists begin to chatter and look around at the other costumes.

"I look like an idiot!" Magnolia says, clearly annoyed.

I grin. "Then we can look like idiots together."

She laughs, slightly bitterly, before pulling herself together. She seems almost ashamed of that outburst of emotion. She takes a good look at my costume. "I guess I don't have much to complain about."

I shrug as the chariots in front begin to move. First is gleaming District One, followed by stoic Two, and then an unhappy pair from Three. District Four is cold this year, and District Five… well, I can't really tell what's up with them. District Six looks shy, and District Seven is doing its best to attention. The pair from District Eight cowers in their piles of cloth, District Nine is cross and defiant, and District Ten is similar to District Seven. Our chariot begins to move.

Immediately, I realize that our heavy costumes aren't faring so well. I lose my balance and reach out, grabbing the rail as our chariot is surrounded by the cheers and screams of the Capitolites. Not the best first impression, huh? I reach out with my other hand, which Magnolia grabs, and together, we regain our balance. Magnolia is silent. I suppose that all this people time is hard on her.

"Hey, you okay?" I say.

No response. I don't ask again. She needs some time to adjust and make sense of everything.

We've got a lot of adjusting to do.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Zash… Hopes? Dreams? (Undertale reference). How do you think his character will continue to develop?**

 **2\. Naia… How do you think the Naia/Creek relationship will develop?**

 **3\. Jessamine… what do you think of her odds? How will that translate into the story?**

 **4\. Hirst… More Hirstolia! What are you looking forwards to in regards to this?**

 **~Joseph**


	17. Training, Day 1

**A/N Another earlier update! Here's the first day of Training.**

 **Also, I have created a website for the Ecclesiastes-verse (which is the universe that Meaningless and its sequels take place in). As characters appear, they will be added to the site. Check it out at:**

 **ecclesiastesverse. weebly. com**

 _ **Imperial Gallium, 18, District One Male**_

People think that a person's strength is what makes them a threat. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Determination and Resilience are what make a person a threat. You see, in the Hunger Games, anyone that isn't resilient will succumb to shock, which makes for an easy target. No, the ones that are tough are those that keep their minds clear and quickly change their plans to match their new goal — victory.

That is what I'm looking for as I scan the group of twenty-two tributes standing around Head Trainer Something-Or-Another, who tells us to pay attention to survival skills and stuff. It's amusing how people assume we know nothing about survival skills. We study those at home, you know. We're not idiots. The trainer dismisses us.

The girl from Two, Aemilia, if I remember correctly, gets her district partner Androcles and comes up to me and Aria.

"Hey, Imperial and Aria, correct?" she says. Her grandfather was Cicero Melanite, a victor. I can see it in her confidence and natural leadership skills. She's a threat, but we all knew this from the very beginning.

"Yep. You're Aemilia, huh?" I say, extending my hand.

She nods and shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"The feeling is mutual," Aria says, her voice soft and sweet. Aria is an interesting case. She's so… _nice_ most of the time; it's hard to believe that she can be a killer. But she was able to be that one volunteer, so I know she has that determination required to win. She's also a threat, though Aemilia seems to be the bigger threat.

"And you're… Androcles?" I say, greeting Aemilia's district partner.

"Yeah," he says. He's determined for sure, but he seems a bit off. Maybe it's his impatient tone. Maybe it's the distant anger in his eyes. All I know is that though he's strong, he's likely to go overboard. Right now, out of my three associates, Aemilia is the one to watch out for.

"So," Aemilia says, "We have to decide if we want anyone from Seven or Ten."

"I'm fine with it," Aria says, the voice of reason, "If they're strong, then we want them close to keep an eye out for them. If they're weak, they'll be easy to get rid of."

"We should wait," I offer, "We don't know much about them. Give them a bit of time to figure out what they're after. For all we know, they could be trying to turn us against each other."

If my strategy is to work, I need trust to be big in our alliance. I can't afford to try to work with suspicious people.

Aemilia agrees, as does her district partner. "What about the Four guy," Aemilia says, watching the guy throw tridents and spears. For someone untrained, he's awfully skilled.

"What about him," I say.

"His technique is not very… Four-ish," Aemilia says, "If you've ever watched old reruns from the first couple hundred years, you'll notice that the way he pulls back is more of a technique from Two. He's been trained."

So Aemilia is observant too. I need to work around that. "Huh" is all I manage.

"When are we getting started," Androcles huffs, "We're wasting time. If you think he's that important, then ask him to join us. If you don't, let him be. It's not that complicated."

So Androcles is also impatient. That, my good man, is a very easy trait to manipulate.

"We kinda have to decide now," Aria says.

"Why?" Aemilia asks.

"He's coming over here."

Aemilia turns around. Sure enough, the Four guy is slowly walking our way. Aria waves. He seems to gain confidence, and he smiles.

"So we were watching you," Aemilia says, "And you seem pretty talented with that spear."

"I'll say that I been waiting to do this for a long time," he says.

"Oh?" she replies, "How so?"

"You see," he says, "I think that the thing that Four needs is to realize that the Capitol makes us rich. That's my goal. If I win, my district will be showered with riches. Then people will get that the rebels made us poor."

Interesting usage of "If." He's not as confident as he wants us to think.

Aria nods. "So, what's our decision? I say he stays."

Androcles sighs in frustration. "If this'll speed this up, I'll say yes."

"Sure," I say. It doesn't matter whether he's in or not to me, but agreeing gives a sense of unity.

"Then you're in," Aemilia says, "I say yes."

The guy's shoulders drop as if he was tense just earlier. "Oh, I'm Creek, by the way," he says.

We split up to train. Aemilia repeatedly said to avoid bothering the other tributes. I can do that. There's no point in bothering them anyway. I go to the spears. It's easy for me, so I'll be able to focus on scouting for threats.

I hurl a spear into the dummy. Simple. The girl from Three — Pixel? — cowers in the camouflage station nearby. She's not much of a threat. She seems too scared and unwilling to kill. The Sevens and Tens haven't banded yet. Star, the reaped girl from Ten, seems scared, but her partner Angus is trying to help her. He's the mayor's son, so he has the confidence needed to help Star on her feet.

The girl from Four is definitely a threat. Though she doesn't have much skill, her defiant attitude will make her hard to deal with. Looking at the untrained tributes, the only ones that have started trying weapons are the Three guy, the Four girl, and the pair from Nine. I make mental note of this. These four are the most likely to take offence and attack us, so once the games begin, I'll have to watch out for them.

No, it's not that I'm scared.

I just want to make sure everything goes _my_ way.

 _ **Alder Blackwood, 16, District Seven Male**_

I take another bite of the chicken. The food here is so different. Sure, it's more flavorful and it does taste good, but it almost tastes… artificial, as if it's not real food. Arden sits across from me on the other side of this spotless white table.

I look at Angus and Star at the other end of the cafeteria. They seem alone right now.

"So, what you think?" I say.

"About what?" Arden replies, chewing her food. It's not that she doesn't have manners. I've seen her proper and formal. She just doesn't like being told what to do. I smile just thinking about the escort's reaction to Arden.

"Angus and Star," I say, "You know, the Tens."

"Oh." She turns around to look at them. "The guy is definitely good. I'm not so sure about the girl."

"How come?"

"She's trained — barely. She's reaped, so she's not mentally and emotionally prepared. She's a liability."

I sigh. "Why do you always think like that? You treat everyone— like a tool, as if their only purpose is to help you survive."

"Maybe it's because that is their only purpose," she says, "You know this already. It's kill or be killed in here."

"But come on," I say, "Show a bit of humanity, won't you?"

"And get killed? Nah, I'm happy the way I am."

Arden clearly isn't going to change her mind this way. I try a different route.

"But you do know that Angus won't leave Star, right?" I say.

"How do you know that?"

"Look, Arden, you may be cruel and heartless, but not everyone thinks that way. If we don't get the Tens, we'll have two trained groups to look out for."

"So? Star will just tie Angus down. They won't be a threat."

"Fine," I huff, "I'm going to talk to them anyway."

I get up, intentionally ignoring Arden's glare, and stroll over to the table where the Tens are sitting. Angus sees me approaching and stands up.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he replies, "Is this about the alliance?"

"Yeah, what else. So, are you two in?"

"Sounds good," he says while looking to Star for confirmation. She nods. "What about your partner?"

"Well," I say, "Let's call her a work in progress."

Star interrupts. "It's okay. If she doesn't want me that much, I don't have to stick with you all."

Angus turns to her. "But remember? Darah told us to stick together." He looks at me. "We can't leave out your partner either. She's much too strong to leave out."

"Then what do you think we do," I say.

"Let's do this," he says, "We'll go over there and make a deal. If Star scores a 7 or above, then we can all agree that she's capable. How 'bout it."

I shrug. "I've got nothing better. Let's do this."

Angus leads the way back to my table, where Arden is still alone.

"What do you want?" Arden says, defensively.

"Look," Angus says, a lot tougher than he was back there, "I get that you think that only volunteers are strong. So, we'll make a deal. If Star scores a 7 or above, you recognize that she's strong enough and let her join."

"Seven?" Arden says, "I bet even the girl from Eleven could manage that. Make it eight." I can see wheels turning in her head. Something about proving yourself clicks with her.

Angus looks at Star, who's radiating confidence. "We'll take it," he says.

"Then it's settled," Arden says.

"Oh, one more thing," Star says, "We need to decide right now what we're going to do about One and Two. They've been eyeing us." Star's penchant for observation is going to be helpful.

"We're not gonna take it," Angus says, quickly followed by Arden concurring. He goes on to explain. "Star and I have talked about this. They're too unpredictable this year. Imperial is more do-whatever-it-takes while Aemilia is very honor-oriented. We don't want to get caught up in having to take sides."

Arden shrugs. "I just didn't want to take orders from any of them."

"Sounds good to me," I say.

The bell rings, ending lunch. We all leave the room in a group and stand in the middle of the training room to start formulating our strategy. We haven't started before we're interrupted by Imperial Gallium from One, striding towards us. Angus immediately steps out from the group. I guess he's our leader now. Then again, his father's a mayor, so he'll do well.

"Imperial," Angus says.

"Angus," Imperial replies, "I see you've been paying attention too, huh?"

"I wouldn't expect any less of myself," Angus says, "I think we both know what you're here for. Our answer is no."

Imperial seems slightly taken aback, but he tries not to make it obvious. "Well then. May I ask why?"

"We're doing things our way," Angus says, "Our answer is no. You can go back and tell your group what we think. Thank you for the thought anyway."

Imperial shrugs and leaves, and Angus turns around and lets out a big breath.

"That was the easy part," he says, "Now we're just gonna have to watch our backs."

"That's why we're here," I say, "In this alliance. We got each other's backs."

Arden snorts at the idea, but I disagree with her. It's not only about winning the game.

It's about how you play the game.

 _ **Amos Breckinridge, 13, District Twelve Male**_

Great. Just great. Just when I was getting ready to get over my guilt, I'm forced into a deathmatch where my morals mean almost nothing. As if my guilt wasn't enough. If I win, I'm guilty of killing people. If I die, I'm guilty of leaving my family. It's a lose-lose situation. Then again, I'm horrible enough of a person now.

I return my attention to the plants in front of me. Some of these are familiar, such as the dandelions and wild onions. I've had them myself, so if the Arena is full of plants like these, I'll be set. Well, until I get boring because I'm hiding and the Gamemakers either kill me or drive me into the Careers.

Pleasant, eh?

Still, I try my best at the plants. Maybe my family won't feel as bad if I try my best and die anyway. That way, I won't be betraying them by giving up and pretty much committing suicide.

I look around at all the other tributes and wince as the guy from One gives the trainer a pretty hard beating. I hope these trainers are paid well. They deserve it. My partner is down at the knot-tying station. I think it's pretty much set in stone that we're helping each other, if not allying because none of us are strong enough to be any good to anyone else. Being the youngest never helps. After us two, the youngest ones are both from Eight and the girl from Six — all are fifteen. If I wanted to ally, I wouldn't be able to find one. Thus is the plight of young tributes. Maybe if they were more of us, we could find safety in numbers, but it's just me and Jessamine.

I look, and I see the Five guy sit down at the station. He reads the guidebook intently before trying to find his way around the plants. One look and I know he's completely lost when it comes to plants. Then again, he's from District Five; what did I expect? I could help him, but that would mean helping my opponent. But I know that helping him is the right thing to do. Besides, I might be able to get some help.

I scoot over. "Umm, hey."

He looks up. "Hey," he says, completely flat. Either he's a boring guy or he's being emotionless from shock right now. I assume the latter.

"You don't look like you're doing so well," I say.

"Probably because I'm not doing too well," he replies, "Great job, you can see the obvious."

Ooooh. Snarky. "I can help you with these," I say, "I mean, I'm not an expert, but I know… no offense, more than you."

"Huh," he says, "Go ahead."

I begin explaining some telltale signs of poisonous plants. He listens carefully, almost as if taking notes in his mind.

"Does this make sense?" I say.

He nods as if thinking. "Hey, look." he says, "You're defenseless against other tributes. Pretty much anyone could kill you easily... I'm useless when it comes to survival skills. That hellhole I call home isn't much of a place to learn about these things. Maybe we could help each out."

I smile, barely concealing my excitement. "Sure," I say, "I'm Amos."

"Name's Chase," he says.

The bell rings to end the day of training. "See you," he says before walking off to the elevators.

Maybe I do have a shot at this. Like Kiera said, the odds are horrible.

But it's not impossible.

 _ **Chase Arclight, 16, District Five Male**_

I step into the elevator and push the button that says "District Five." The elevator shoots up, nothing like the slow ones we have at home. I'm not exactly sure why I decided to ally with Amos. He's not strong, and even with my help, I don't know if he'll make it that far. Maybe it's because I can't stand by and watch him die without doing anything. Maybe it's because it's a way of making up for not being able to save Cassy.

The doors open, and I step into the District Five floor. Elysia is in the kitchen with her mentor Alva. My mentor, Raydon, sits at the dinner table, staring out the window. He turns to look at me once he hears me coming. He gestures to the seat across from him.

"Sit down," he says. I do as he says. He's known for his flaring temper, and I don't want to have to deal with it. "What did you do today?"

"Plants," I say, "The trained ones hogged the weapon stations. I got a bit of practice with traps."

"Anything else? Anyone you want as an ally?"

"Well," I start, coming to the realization that Raydon isn't going to be happy about Amos. "I talked to the District Twelve guy today."

He sits up and stares at me. "So you're saying…"

"He knows plants a lot better than I do, so I allied with him," I say, keeping myself calm. I won't respond with emotion.

He stands up and bangs his fist on the table. "Boy, are you crazy?" he says, "Plants? Huh, if you wanted plants, why didn't you talk to the Elevens? He's useless to you!"

"The Elevens-"

"Stop making excuses!" he shouts, "Do you realize what you're doing? Sponsors don't want to see you with a bloodbath! They want to see you strong!"

Huffing, he grabs the nearest knife. Thankfully, it's a butter knife, but I still back against the wall.

"You might as well kill yourself now," he says. "You don't get sponsors, you don't get out alive."

With that, he throws the knife onto the table and stomps off.

I peel myself off the wall. From what I've heard, I was relatively lucky. I didn't suffer any physical harm.

I start to realize what just happened. My mentor has given up on me. No sponsors. No supplies. No advice. My odds have just gotten worse.

But now I also know why I decided to ally with Amos. I don't remain as an observer to this messed up world. I do what I know is right.

Even if it means my death.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Imperial… Any thoughts? What do you think about the way he thinks? How will this affect how he acts?**

 **2\. Alder… How do you feel about the Districts 7 & 10 alliance right now? What more of Alder's personality did you learn?**

 **3\. Amos… How do you like him? What are your thoughts on the Amos/Chase alliance?**

 **4\. Chase… Has your opinion about Chase changed? How do you feel about him?**

 **5\. Predictions?**

 **Next chapter will be the second day of training.**

 **~Joseph**


	18. Training, Day 2

**A/N School's over for me! In other words, MORE FREQUENT UPDATES! WHO'S PUMPED?**

 **Hehe. Anyway, it's the second day of training now, which means we're halfway through the Pre-Games. Yay!**

 **Also, the website has been updated again, and it will be updated every time I post a chapter that involves a character never seen before. Once again, the site is at:**

 **ecclesiastesverse. weebly. com**

 _ **Aemelia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

Day two of training begins with a bang. Literally. Or maybe it's a clang. Either way, the boy from Twelve can't hold a heavy sword, so it drops to the ground, making a huge noise. I almost feel bad for them sometimes; it feels wrong killing someone defenseless. However, all it takes to get back on track is focusing on the goal, the reward—the victor's crown.

I think this is part of why I don't like messing with the other tributes. It's playing dirty, and it's against all the principles I've been brought up with. I came here to win, not to mess with others. The killing is only an obstacle to my goal. Besides, what good does it do to mess with a thirteen-year-old who's already defenseless?

Then again, I kind of get why others do it. Training is boring. Almost everything we do here has already been taught at home. The only purpose for us inner-district volunteers is to ally and decide what to do with the other districts. It also helps us prepare for our competition. That's about it.

I sit on a bench on the edge of the room. I spent pretty much all of yesterday with the swords, which are a pretty reliable weapon since they're almost always in the arena. Imperial, sweaty from wrestling, comes by and sits beside me.

"So, what are you doing here?" he says.

"Honestly," I say, "I have no idea. It's kind of boring, really; there's not much new to learn."

He stares into space with a thoughtful look in his eye. "Yeah, yeah. I do it for the reactions. If they see what we can do, they'll think twice about taking from us."

"Won't that make our lives harder?" I say, "Everyone will stay further from us. It'll take a lot longer to find and eliminate everyone."

"That's also true." There are a few moments of silence. He looks at me. "Well, you should probably do something. Can't sit around here forever."

I get up. "Yeah. I dunno, maybe I'll go learn how to set a wire trap or something."

He shrugs. "Okay. We'll meet at lunch."

I walk over to the traps, making sure to keep my distance from the Twelve girl, who is also at this station. If she wants to learn how to make traps, she has the right. Then again, the trap she's working on is pretty large—large enough to catch me or Androcles. That can't be good. The Eight girl is also in the other corner of the station, but she seems preoccupied with the pattern of the threads in a piece of rope.

I look around for a trainer, but there's no one here. Was there a trainer here? I can't even remember. I pick up a booklet and begin to work with the wire when there's a screech nearby. I look up, and I see that the Twelve girl caught herself and is now hanging from a net of ropes hanging from an iron bar, struggling to get free. Thankfully, it's not going to kill her, but she looks awfully uncomfortable. An instinct inside me tells me to go help her, and I know that it's probably the right thing to do, but I can't bring myself to do it. Helping her would hurt me. It'll discredit me in front of my allies, and I'll be wasting my time and giving her more time to learn more skills that could be used on me. Before I can make a decision, the girl from Three runs over and begins untying the cords.

I look back down at my wires. This is going to be a problem. Either I choose to do what's right or I choose what helps me win.

The worst part is that I can't decide.

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female**_

I think I've got it now. If I can pull it off, the Games won't be as tough as I expected. Sure, I'm young, but I'm also almost invisible. My talent for staying unnoticed is quite useful. As long as I can transfer this into the Games, I have a fairly good shot.

My strategy is simple. First, I get the scoop on every tribute. That way I know who to watch out for and who to prioritize. After that, I take this information and use it to my advantage in the Games.

I go to the plants station and absent-mindedly begin to mess with the plants. No, I'm not here for the plants; I spent all of yesterday here. I'm here to watch people. In the nearby traps station, Jessamine is talking to Pixel. Let me guess; they're allying. From what I know about the latter, she's allying because she's a mother. Last night, I managed to get my escort to access something they call the Web. I found Pixel's birth records. She has twins, too. This information is a double-edged sword, really. It means that I know their weaknesses, but it makes them harder to kill. I don't even know if I can kill. I'll stick to poisons then. Jessamine apparently has Capitol blood. She seems like she's had an easy life, which will make the Games harder for her.

This isn't all I found last night. Angus is the mayor's kid in District Ten, which means that he probably has good leadership skills and will do well in the interviews. Digit, the guy from Three, has had several sibling die in the Games. He's probably steaming mad right now, though he's channeling his anger into determination. Aria's dad owns a huge shopping place in One, and it's apparently called a "shopping mall." I've never seen one before, so I wouldn't know. Aemilia's grandfather is a victor. Naia is mentioned in a few Peacekeeper reports from Four. Whatever this "Web' is, it's quite useful.

I've seen Chase and Amos together all day. This tells me two things. One, Chase is either really moral or really stupid, since not many people would ally with the youngest tribute this year. I'm assuming it's the former since his mentor is Raydon, infamous for his temper. If I know anything, Chase and his mentor probably aren't too happy with each other right now. The other thing I know is that assuming the first point is true, killing Amos is a bad idea. Seeing how protective Chase is, anyone threatening Amos is going to have a bad time.

Senwe from Nine has gone over to talk to Digit from Three, and they seem to be getting friendly. Allies.

Another thing I noticed is that we have two trained packs this year instead of one, and both of them are surprisingly similar. Both of them have really honorable people (Aemilia and Angus) and really do-whatever-it-takes people (Imperial and Arden). I might be able to exploit that, but since both have really strong leadership, it won't be easy.

I look at the Sevens and Tens. It seems like they'll go for a more defensive approach, considering how they aren't openly challenging the Inner District group. I turn my attention to the Ones, Twos, and Creek, who are scattered throughout the place. Most of them are pretty focused. The Creek from Four seems like he's trying to make up for his lack of training, and Androcles is quite scary with his ax. Even the Sevens are watching him carefully; that has to mean something. Aria is good with her bow, though by looking at how muscular she is, I can't help but wonder if she's adept with another weapon. She's too strong to only be an archer. Aemilia is kinda the odd one out, as she's at the traps. I guess she lacks the boastfulness that's so common in trained tributes.

I look for Imperial, but he's not at any weapon station. Huh. Where did he go? So far, he seems to be the wild card, the one I can't completely figure out. One moment, he's all about weapons, and the next, he's quiet and contemplative. I turn around, and I see him at the water fountain.

Oh, shoot.

He's looking at me, watching me.

Using two fingers, he points to his eyes and then at me. I get his message. He knows what I'm doing, and he can play the same game.

Things are just getting started.

 _ **Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female**_

We've just finished dinner, and I'm sitting on the couch in the living room. Training's been going pretty well; I've learned a lot, mainly with how to use scythes and knives. Being independent really has its advantages; I can skip many of the survival stations because I've been forced to learn them a long time ago.

Rusk Flanders, my mentor, slowly walks into the room and turns on the television. He sits down beside me. Our mentoring sessions are usually relatively quiet. He doesn't talk much; I don't talk much; we get along just fine.

Right now, on the screen, Jovian Vermillius, the current Hunger Games announcer and interviewer, is talking with Head Gamemaker Maximius Reyne about the tributes this year; i.e., me and everyone else. They show footage of training, especially of tributes interacting with each other, so I'm not anywhere. Rusk has a concerned look on his face. He turns the screen off.

"You're going to have to do better," he says in his calm, quiet voice.

"How so?" I say.

"You're not going to make it far if you keep this up," he says, "No one will remember you."

"So?"

He sighs. "I know you like to work alone, but that isn't going to work. You have to go out and make allies. You'll also show up on the nightly updates, so the sponsors will remember you."

"Hmph," I grunt, "Knowing me, it'll probably be less painful to die than make allies."

"C'mon, Diara. I know this is hard for you, but the Games are one place where going solo doesn't work."

I throw my hands up. "Then you tell me; how am I supposed to make allies?"

He thinks about it for a second. "You know, you can go in with this attitude if you want. Just let the other person know that you're in this from a purely business point of view. You don't have to pretend to be something you're not."

I smirk. "So something along the lines of 'I don't care about you; I just want to survive; wanna team'?"

"If that's how you want to do it," he says, "Sure. You have to act fast, though. Soon, no one will be open."

"Fine," I say, "Fine. I'll do it your way then. Pray I don't kill myself in the process."

Things are about to get tough.

 _ **Digit Fuse, 18, District Three Male**_

I sit on the bed they gave me and lean against the headboard. I can't stand this place. They rub these riches in our face just to show us their wealth before they kill us. I grab a pillow and slam it on the ground. Being a pillow, it doesn't do much, and it only makes me more frustrated. I sit back and cross my arms. Just sitting here, surrounded by wealth, makes me mad.

I grunt and slip off of my bed. There has to be an escape here; somewhere where the "supremacy" of the Capitol isn't being rubbed in your face every time you turn around. When I enter the dining room, my mentor, Razer Dian, looks up from his computer screen. His talent is game Design, so I assume he's doing that.

"You should get some rest," he says, "In this high-stress environment, you'll crash if you don't give your body time to recharge."

I shake my head. "No, I can't," I say, looking around this fancy room, "I need… some fresh air."

He nods. "You could always try the roof."

"The roof?" I ask. Roof? How come I never knew about this?

"Yes, the roof. It's always open, but they don't advertise it," he says, "You have to take the stairs."

"Okay," I say, "Thanks."

"Anytime."

I push open the door to the stairs and begin to climb. Since I'm District Three, I have nine flights to go. Paintings cover the walls of the stairwell; even in the most neglected spot here, I can't escape the Capitol.

After a little while, I open the door to the roof and step out onto the rooftop. There's a nice garden up here, and though the benches seem fancy, I can hardly make out the designs in the darkness. Fine by me. I walk to the railing and look over at the Capitol's night lights.

I've heard people say the Capitol looks nice at nice. I guess that's true—if you have no sense of beauty. The garish colors of the lights clash with one another and create a cacophony of color. I look away from the city and up at the night sky. At least that doesn't change.

I hear the door of the stairs open, and I turn around to see. It's some girl; I can't identify her. She's not one of the trained ones though, so I ignore her. She walks to the edge and looks at the Capitol. She's obviously disgusted.

"You too?" I say, glad to see her expression.

"Of course," she says, "Who finds this beautiful anyway?"

I smile, though I don't think she can see it. "So true. I'm Digit, by the way, from Three."

"I'm Naia," she says, "From Four."

Four? "Didn't your part—"

"Don't talk to me about him," she growls, "He's a shame and a traitor to the district. Not like you'd understand. You don't understand unless you've been in District Four. You only get it from first-hand experience."

"I've got more than enough of that," I mutter.

She nods thoughtfully, but she doesn't press the topic. "So… you're… also anti-establishment?"

I think about it for a second. "Yeah, you could put it that way."

"That's all I needed to know," she says. "Wanna team up? It sounds like we have similar views. It'll help us work together more."

I shrug. "I dunno. I really don't know much about you."

"What else do you want to know?" she says.

I shrug again. "Nothing, I guess. You seem pretty capable in training. Sure, why not. But for now, let's just keep this on a 'Spare each other' level. If we're going to get into a serious alliance, we'll have to talk to our mentors.

She nods and yawns. "Thanks for talking. It helps calm me down. I'm gonna go back down."

"Sure thing, bye."

She leaves.

I look back at the night sky. I used to wish upon stars. A great load of help that did. If I want a shot at victory, my chances are going to have to get a lot better.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Aemilia… Has your view of her changed?**

 **2\. Sonic… How do you see her developing in the Games?**

 **3\. Diara… How do you feel about Rusk? To what extent will she follow his advice. Who will she ally with?**

 **4\. Digit… So here's an unconventional alliance. What do you think about it?**

 **Not a huge thing… but I noticed that a lot of my readers disappeared last chapter O_O.**

 **Also, I'll try to update twice a week, so my next update should be Sunday or so.**

 **See y'all soon!**

 **~Joseph**


	19. Training, Day 3

**A/N I'm about a day early! Anyway, there are two more chapters after this, and then the Games begin.**

 **Also, remember to check the website every time a new character is introduced. More likely than not, he/she will be there. Yes, I know I have a lot of male mentors. Don't worry; it won't stay this way. Once again, the website is ecclesiastesverse. weebly. com.**

 _ **Elysia Veton, 17, District Five Female**_

Today's the last day of training. Beginning after lunch, the private Gamemaker sessions begin, where we will be assigned two numbers. One is our training score, and I've heard that it was put in when the Hunger Games were just getting started. The second number is a ranking, and for that number, the Gamemakers take strictly what we showed during the sessions and give us an estimated placing. It's more for strategic purposes, really. If I wanted to know how good a certain skill was, I'd just have to do it there and see where it falls. I'm not interested in that, though. My goal in my life isn't to continue living the hopeless, meaningless life I have. My goal is to find meaning in my life. If that involves dying in the Games, I'm fully prepared to do that. My world back in Five is nothing I want to go back to. Well, except for Omnick. I'll miss him.

I look around at everyone around me, and I see that there are quite a few teams around here. There's the inner district trained group, and there's the outer district trained group. The girls from Three and Twelve have teamed, as did the boys from Three and Nine, though the former seems friendly with the girl from Four, who seems to hate her partner, who's with the inner-district ones. Wow, I didn't know I got into politics when I got reaped. With all these alliances, it definitely feels like politics. My partner Chase allied with the little guy — Amos, I think — from Twelve. I honestly feel bad for Chase after hearing Raydon's outburst. My mentor Alva managed to convince Raydon to put in a little effort, but without help, Chase is going down. I make a mental note of that. Tell Alva to transfer any money she scrapes together to Chase. If Raydon isn't trying, maybe she can help him out.

I see the guy from Eight talking with the guy from Six. I've heard that in the early years, people were too suspicious to ally. By this point, I think everyone knows that allying helps.

Someone interrupts my thoughts. "Umm, hey," she says. I look up and see the girl from Nine. "You know, I want to survive, and you want to survive. Maybe we could do better if, uh, if we work together."

Me? I almost laugh, but that'd be rude. Then again, I'm probably her best bet. There aren't many of us left, and I'm approachable without being a total pushover. At least, I hope. "Sure," I say, "Though, out of curiosity, what made you think I'd be good for your survival?"

"I— I don't know," she sputters, still trying to sound firm. "You— You don't look like you'd stab me in the back, I guess. Or the front. Y— You don't look like you'd stab me at all. Uh, um." She wants to appear confident, but she's only making everything more awkward.

"It's okay, don't worry," I say. Thank goodness she talked to me about this. A lot of others would manipulate this opportunity to gain a person's trust. I guess this is the kind of thinking that gets a tribute killed, but seeing how I don't mind that that much, it's not a problem. "C'mon. We don't have a lot of time. Let's figure this game out."

 _ **Androcles Diorite, 17, District Two Male**_

The minutes count down. Or up, depending on how you look at it. Both ways, My session begins in a little over ten minutes. Each one of us gets exactly ten minutes to show off our skills, and Head Gamemaker Reyne is very exact when it comes to the timing. No more, no less. Even if you do nothing, you're stuck there for ten minutes. Same if you really impress them.

The voice over the speakers calls another name. "Aria Sierra, of District One."

She strides towards the door and goes in. She's pretty strong, but she's surprisingly gentle. She seems like the kind that would cry over a dead cat. I smile. Ten minutes left exactly. I count the seconds. There should be 600 of them.

100 seconds.

What am I going to do? What would give me the highest scores and the highest ranking?

200 seconds.

I know I'm going to use the axes since that's what I know best. Maybe I show a few trick shots to impress them. That'll boost my training score, which is mostly based on show value, but it won't help my ranking, which is strictly based on viability.

300 seconds.

So I'll need something that shows I'm strong and qualified to be a victor. But what?

400 seconds.

I need accuracy, deadly accuracy, but I already have that. I rack my brain, trying to find something.

500 seconds.

I've got it. After the alliance breaks, I'll need the skills to continue living. Survival skills. Traps. I can do that.

600 seconds. There's a moment of tension.

"Androcles Diorite, of District Two."

I stand up, let out my breath, and ball my hands into fists. Here I go. This will teach the world not to underestimate me. This will teach my mentor not to underestimate me. This will… teach my family not to underestimate me.

Trick Shots, Deadly Accuracy, Traps. Trick Shots, Deadly Accuracy, Traps.

I repeat this over and over in my head. I step into the room.

"Androcles Diorite," I say, introducing myself.

Gamemaker Reyne holds a stopwatch in his hand. "Prepare," he says, and I walk over to the axes. "...and begin!" I hear the beep of the watch, and I start off by tossing a few axes, one after another, into the dummies. I don't have time to pick them up, so I begin with the trick shots. First, I throw a wooden one, and then I split the handle with the next throw. I jump while throwing to sever one of the ropes attaching the climbing net to the tall ceiling, and before I hit the ground, I send another ax under my leg into the head of a dummy. I do a few more of these before I stop and pick a heavier ax.

"I'd like someone to spar with, please," I say. A man steps forward, and we fight. The purpose of this isn't to kill, so I don't go straight for the throat. I block his hits and play with him a bit, but he obviously isn't trying to get me either. I disarm him, and he backs away, just as he is supposed to. I glance at the clock. I have just a minute or two, so I construct a crude wire trap, barely finishing before the timer goes off.

"You are dismissed," Gamemaker Reyne says.

I step into the elevator, and as I shoot upwards, I realize how tense I was. I put my hand over my chest and feel my heart pounding. That was the easy part; now is the worst part: the waiting.

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male**_

I lounge on the couch in the living room. Sure, we had pretty nice furniture back home — after all, my dad's the mayor — but we didn't have anything as fancy as this. And if you think I'm amazed, Star's reaction was even crazier. Even now, her fingers wander to the soft velvet every so often. One of our primary mentor, Darah Sommers, walks into the room. I say primary because as long as we have one tribute alive in the games, all fourteen of the mentors are all-in, whether it be giving us advice or gaining sponsors.

"The scores should be announced soon," she says, turning on the screen, "Andor won't be here; he's got an appointment." Andor Yonas is our other primary mentor, and he's quite popular, holding the record for the shortest games of this century: 5 days.

Jovian Vermillius appears on the screen, giving a final recap for the last day of training. Star's unable to focus; she's so nervous.  
"Don't worry," Darah says, sitting beside Star and giving her a hug, "You'll be fine."

Star manages a weak smile.

"Besides," I say, "If you don't make it; I'll leave with you. We can break the alliance."  
"No," Star says, "If I don't make it, you go on ahead."

"C'mon, it's district first. That's way more important than that one alliance."

"Listen," Darah says, pointing to the screen, "He's getting ready to begin."

We turn our attention to Jovian.

"And now, the scores you've been waiting for!" he says to thunderous applause. "Let's begin with beautiful District One."

He looks at his card.

"Imperial Gallium," he says, "With a score of 10. Next, we have beautiful Aria Sierra, with a score of 8."

Eight. She's definitely up to something. She's just as skilled as the rest of the trained ones.

"From District Two, Aemilia Melanite, with a score of 10. Androcles Diorite… Score of 11."

Eleven? That's awfully high. Then again, if you're impressive or entertaining, you can score high without too much talent, though you do need weapon skills to impress the Gamemakers.

"District Three. Digit Fuse, with a score of 6! Pixel Lockdell scores a 4."

Nothing interesting here. Digit tried weapons on day one, while Pixel's been sticking to stuff like camouflage the whole time.

"Creek Langston from District Four… 8. Naia Whyte, his partner… 7."

Now I know without a doubt that Creek has been trained. But how? In District Four? Naia is scarily competent too.

"Chase Arclight of District Five… 6. Elysia Veton… 2."

A score of two is abysmal, though Chase may have a decent chance. He definitely can wrestle.

"Aleczander Ford, District Six… 5. Sonic Wheel… 4."

Pretty average.

"Now, District Seven. Alder Blackwood, with a score of… 9. Arden Caville, with a score of… 10."

I'm not too surprised. Though I think they're equally competent, Arden's more fun to watch.

"From District Eight, Zash Kamzoil… 7. Button Davenport… 5."

Zash scored a 7? What in the world could he have done to score a 7?

"District Nine… Oh, we have a pair of fighters this year, huh… Senwe Barric… Scores an 8. Diara Hulston… 7."

District Nine will be hard to beat if it comes down to it, but I doubt it'll happen. Our mentors have always encouraged us to stay friendly with Nine, and we've tried to do that, though Diara isn't the friendliest person…

"District Ten! Angus Derwin… my, my. Your father will be proud of you. 10!"

I smile. Ten. It's perfect.

"Star Vexbleuten."

We all hold our breaths.

"...9."  
We erupt in cheering. Star did it. She tightly hugs Darah, who squeezes her back. We barely hear the two from Eleven, though I did notice that the guy scored a 7, as did his partner. Eleven's also going to be tough this year. Finally, the guy from Twelve scores a 5 while the girl scores a 2.

Finally, they show our rankings. I don't pay much attention to them since I wasn't testing anything out. Besides, They'll be posted anywhere, and I can access it anytime I want. Right now, I'm done, though I did notice that Arden was number one. Thank goodness Star made it in.

 _ **Aleczander Ford, 18, District Six Male**_

I push the button and turn off the television. I was ranked number 18. Eighteen. No one's going to sponsor me now. I slam the remote down on the table. My mentor, Jagger Cartland, sits beside me. He won a few years back, and most people still don't know how a depressed kid from Six managed to win. I don't know either, but I do know that he's still depressed to this day.

"I think I figured out your problem," he says, slowly.

"And that is…" I say.

"You're too nice," he says.

"Umm.. what?"  
"You're too nice. I'm sorry, but with this attitude you've got right now, I don't see you winning."

"Why?" I say.

"Because nice people like you don't win. Only the meanest, most determined ones win. Of course, you might gain the audience's sympathy, but then someone chops off your head and Boom. Everyone forgets you. You get what I'm saying?"

I nod, slightly. What am I supposed to do? I don't want to die, but I don't want to become a monster.

"I'm sorry. I really am, but I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I get it," I say.

"You should sleep," he says, "You've got a game show tomorrow."

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Elysia and Diara… who saw this coming? Predictions? Thoughts?**

 **2\. How does this snippet on Androcles compare with your previous ideas?**

 **3\. What do you think of Angus? How do you like his point of view**

 **4\. What do you think Aleczander will do?**

 **5\. What are your thoughts on the scores? Yes, I do know what I did with Zash. Hint: The training score is based on show value as well as skill, and Zash is a** _ **storyteller**_ **.**

 **Here are the full rankings. Remember, this is purely based on what skills they showed in their private session.**

 **1\. Arden**

 **2\. Aemilia**

 **3\. Imperial**

 **4\. Angus**

 **5\. Androcles**

 **6\. Alder**

 **7\. Aria**

 **8\. Star**

 **9\. Senwe**

 **10\. Creek**

 **11\. Magnolia**

 **12\. Naia**

 **13\. Diara**

 **14\. Hirst**

 **15\. Chase**

 **16\. Digit**

 **17\. Sonic**

 **18\. Aleczander**

 **19\. Pixel**

 **20\. Zash**

 **21\. Amos**

 **22\. Button**

 **23\. Jessamine**

 **24\. Elysia**

 **So… Next update should be up around Tuesday, maybe Wednesday.**

 **~Joseph**


	20. The Game Show

**A/N Dang, Joseph! Back at it again with another chapter! (Credit to LlamaRoid)**

 **Anyway starting from the second POV, I recommend listening to "Death by Glamour" from the Undertale OST. It really sets the mood. Credit for the Game Show idea goes to my brother** **.**

 **Oh, and was I the only person that didn't know that you can set YouTube to automatically repeat? At least, I now know you can do that on the computer. If you right click the video you're watching, find "Loop" and click it. It will cause your video to auto-repeat. It's so useful with music.**

 **Finally, I'M OVER 200 REVIEWS! too many exclamation marks? too bad. Thank you to all my loyal reviewers, especially chocolatechiphomocide (who got the 200** **th** **review), Guest 1, RedRoses, and LlamaRoid, who have been especially dependable.**

 _ **Creek Langston, 18, District Four Male**_

Training ended yesterday, and today is a bit of a breather; well, until the game show tonight. This is one of the more recent additions to the Hunger Games (It was introduced twenty years ago), and it's an opportunity for us to gain some starting money. It's slightly different each year, but the one thing that doesn't change is that the tributes that do well receive some money to begin with when the Games begin. Most unpopular tributes take opportunity of this chance to gain some support.

However, that begins tonight at nine, after dinner. It's still a while until then; it's barely two in the afternoon. I would prepare for the game show, but I have no clue what it's going to be about. I asked my mentor, Avisa Keel, but she didn't know anything.

There's nothing to do right now. Both Avisa and Pike , the other mentor, are busy trying to get sponsors, so other than Naia and me, the only other person here is our escort. Bored, I wander into the dining room and pick up an orange. We see these occasionally back home, but the ones we have can't possibly compare to these huge, luscious fruits they have here in the Capitol. I sit down, trying to think of something to do.

Footsteps reach my ear, and Naia appears in the doorway. She looks like she's about to leave, but she speaks anyway.

"You're so proud of yourself, aren't you, you cheater."

I glare at her back. "Maybe I am. What is it to you."

She tosses her hair back and walks further into the room. "I dunno. Maybe it's just that some people like you feel the need to suck up to the dirty Capitol, destroying themselves in the process."

"Ha, you're so much better," I snark, "It's not like you're wreaking havoc or anything. Oh wait, rebels like you burned down half of our marketplace. That's not destructive or anything."

"I could say the same about how you loyalists invited Peacekeepers down."

"But we're trying to preserve our district. I can't say the same about you," I say, standing up.

"We're trying to save the district!" she protests, "The Capitol is the one that throws us in the Hunger Games. The Capitol is killing our people and children?"

"And you aren't?" I shoot back, "I distinctly remember that the fire that burned down half of our marketplace killed a little girl. She was five. You destroy our people, not even giving us a chance to fight. At least the Capitol gives us a fighting chance."

"Fighting chance?" Naia says, dumbstruck and trying to come up with words. She clearly didn't hear about the girl. "Some chance they gave District Thirteen."

"Thirteen?" I say, "You're bringing up Thirteen now? If I remember correctly, Thirteen was full of nukes! What do you think the Capitol is, stupid?"

"Yes," she says.

I catch a glance at the doorframe, and I see my mentor Avisa standing there, arms crossed and leaning on the frame with a disapproving look in her eye. Naia turns to look, and any word she was planning to say is cut off.

Avisa sighs. "What am I supposed to do with you two, always bickering like two little kids? You can't go into the Games tearing at each other's throats. Look, both of you want to win, right?"

We both nod. What else do you expect?

"And you both want to win for our District, right?"

I nod again, unable to find fault with that.

"Then stop bickering. Doesn't matter which of you wins; our District gets the same amount of supplies. Go find somewhere to cool down. This attitude won't help in the game show."

I glare at Naia before tossing the orange back on the table and stalking out of the room.

We'll see, Naia; We'll see.

 _ **Pixel Lockdell, 18, District Three Female**_

Digit and I sit at the table with our mentor, Razer, looking through files of information on past games. He's our only remaining capable victor since our only other living victor is in the hospital. She could die any day now. This clearly gets on his mind, since she was his mentor, but he tries so hard to keep us from noticing it. How do I know? I'm a mom and a wife; I recognize these things.

"So, so far," Digit says, "for the Game Show, we've had five obstacle courses, one cooking competition, three singing contests, four puzzle contests, two luck-based ones, and four trivia ones. What do you think it will be this year?"

"I'd bet on trivia or puzzle, but I can't be sure," our mentor says, leaning back and stretching. "I know they won't be doing cooking again after the last time, but anything else is fair game."

"Is it safe to assume that it probably won't be an obstacle course because of last year?" I ask.

"Maybe," he says. "No guarantees."

I sigh.

He senses my disappointment. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything about it. The show is out of my control."

"No, it's okay," I say.

"Well then, there's nothing else I can do. You both can decide what you want to do until then."

He gets up to leave.

"Umm," Digit ventures, "Can I ask you a question? Like, somewhere…" He looks around. "...umm…"

Razer nods and points upwards. "Sure."

They walk towards the stairwell, and I'm left curious. What's he so secretive about? Does it affect me? I watch them until they disappear from sight. If it concerns me, I should know. I'll follow them.

I softly walk to the stairwell, and I slowly turn the knob and pull the door open. It's so well-oiled; it doesn't squeak. I tiptoe forward, shutting the door behind me. The sound of their footsteps echo down. I'll have to be exceptionally quiet; that echo doesn't help.

Tensely, I place my foot on the first step going up. Thank goodness the floor doesn't squeak. Gaining confidence, I take a few more steps. Gradually, it dawns on me that they're going up to the roof. That's nine floors up. Oh well, better get moving.

Occasionally, I stop because they stop moving, but the rest of the climb is uneventful. When I get to the top, I nudge the door open and peek outside. The two are standing in the garden, and if I lie low, I can get close by crawling around that small wall. I open the door a little more, squeeze through the opening, and crawl closer.

"So it's true," I hear Digit say.

"Yes, it's true," Razer sighs.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What are you going to do with it? What does it say?" Digit presses.

"Nothing that's of any use to an uprising."

An uprising? They could be executed for this. The wind here is strong enough, though. I hope.

"C'mon," Digit says, "There has to be something of worth in that notebook. It was Beetee's, for Pete's sake."

Beetee's notebook? It's almost an object of legendary status in Three. Everyone's heard stories about it, though there's not much that's known for sure. Before now, I wasn't even sure if this particular notebook existed.

"I'm sorry," Razer says, "It's mostly strings of code."  
"You code for a talent, don't you?" Digit says.

"Look," the mentor says, "This was code from over nine hundred years ago. I can barely pick out anything."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Razer sighs, obviously annoyed. He stands up; I can see the tip of his head. "Is this all you wanted to know?"

"Umm… yes."

"Then that's all you're going to get," he says before walking off. Digit huffs before leaving too.

I stand up, trying to process what I just heard. Beetee's notebook does exist, though it's mostly unreadable. Who knows what secrets are hidden in there. My parents always told me that siding with the Capitol was a good idea, but in this situation, I'm not so sure. If it weren't for the Capitol, I'd be home with my daughters Paige and Annabelle. But even with these thoughts, I never gave much credit to Beetee's notebook. Maybe there's powerful information in there. Maybe it's enough to take down the Capitol.

Maybe it's enough to end the Hunger Games.

 _ **Arden Caville, 18, District Seven Female**_

Star made a nine. I guess she's good enough. I guess my worries were unfounded, though it doesn't hurt to double-check.

I'm sitting in one of the cars used to drive us to places. Alder and I are sitting here in the back, separated from the driver and our escort by metal bars. What do they think we'll do, kill the driver and hijack the car? Now that I think about it, if I hadn't volunteered, I probably would've done that. Maybe it's happened before.

I try to peer out of the windows, but they're so dark I can't see a thing. It keeps people from swarming the car, but it makes the trip quite awkward. I give up and settle for playing with the hem of this green dress. I guess my mom's concerns about being ladylike had some value.

"So, what do you think we'll have to do tonight," Alder says. He's also wearing a green suit. I get it. Green. Trees. It's annoying sometimes, though.

I shrug. "I dunno. Can't be that hard; can it?"

"Maybe. Depends on what it is."

"Oh come on. We'll just go in, win the cash and get out of there," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughs. "If only it were that easy."

The car pulls to a stop, and we get out inside an enclosed parking-thing. I really don't know how else to describe it. In Seven, we have parking garages, but this is way too clean to be one of those. Our escort leads us down a plushie hallway into dressing rooms, where my stylist, Klinka, is waiting.

"Are you ready?" she asks, a twinkle in her eye. I like her. She isn't a snobby fashion maniac like so many of the others.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, smiling.

She adjusts my dress. "Well, good luck," she says, "The audience with love you! You're fiery and fun; just what a show needs. They'll be cheering for you like madmen." She pauses and looks at me playfully. "I'll be screaming the loudest."

I laugh. "Thanks, Klinka. Whew, better get going."

"Very well."

She takes me out of the room and back into the hallway, where we pass Angus, dressed in a nice, semi-formal suit with a brown leather jacket, and his stylist. I wave.  
"Ready to win?" I say.

He gives me a thumbs up. "Let's do this. I'll see you then."

I wave as we turn a corner and he disappears from sight. Or we disappear from his sight. Same difference. Finally, we reach a hall with door after door on the left wall. As we walk by some of them, I see that there are Districts on the doors along with a gender. Pretty self-explanatory.

Klinka takes a card and holds it out in front of the door labeled "District Seven Female," and it clicks. Unlocked. She opens the door, and we step into a small room with a metal sliding door on the other side. All those doors will open for all of us tributes at the same time. In the room is also a bowl of fruit on a mahogany table with a nice couch beside it. A mirror hangs on the wall across from it. When I look at myself, I see that I'm wearing minimal makeup. That's because the audience wants to see our genuine reactions in the game. A screen hovers in the corner, and it tells me that I have one minute left.

Klinka gestures to the metal sliding door, and I stand in front of it. It's about to begin. There have been years where the winner of the game show ended up becoming the victor. This extra money could mean the difference between life and death. My heart is pounding in my chest, even though I usually don't get stage fright. As the last ten-second countdown begins, I look back at Klinka, who gives me a thumbs up.

"You can do this," she says before motioning for me to turn around. I hear the metal door sliding open, and I turn around to a huge audience and a small booth in front of me.

Jovian Vermillius stands in the center of the stage. "Please welcome… the tributes of the Nine-hundredth and ninety-ninth Hunger Games!"

The crowd applauds and cheers. This attention; it's almost overwhelming.

"Tributes, please step forward."

Confidently and smiling, I walk up to my booth. The booths are arranged in pairs of two; each tribute by their district partner, in a huge arc across the stage. Alder stands to my right, and looking down the line to my left, I see Angus and Star. Star sees me watching, and she gives me a little smile. I hope she's good at this.

Upbeat music is playing as Jovian explains the rules this year. "Once again this year, we have a test of the knowledge of our tributes! Our topic this year is 'Victors,' and tributes, I wish you luck and skill.  
"Tributes, if you look at your booth in front of you, you'll see a microphone, a white screen with a stylus, and a buzzer. If you haven't guessed, the microphone picks up your voice. Amazing, I know. When you know the answer to the question I ask, you write it on the screen. As for the buzzer, it's not complicated." He looks at me, a mischievous look in his eyes. "When you have the answer written down, _you press it._ "

"Oh come on, Jovian," I say, before my mind registers what I'm doing, "It's absolutely _mind-blowing_."

He laughs a loud hearty laugh. "I guess we have a sassy one here." I hear a cheer from the balcony, where the stylists are seated. When I see Klinka, I flash a smile. "Now," he says, "When you press the buzzer, you'll see your placing. This only shows how fast you were, not if you're correct. The top five contestants to answer a question quickly and accurately get points, which, if you haven't noticed, transfer into money." He rubs his fingers together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Yeah!" Imperial says, all the way at the end of the line with Aria, "Let's do this!"

The crowd cheers, and I grip my stylus tightly in my hand.

Question number one, let's go.

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

Things didn't start as planned. I managed to scrape up a few hundred in funds, as did Angus, but the first points all went to the inner districts. What did I expect? They know their victors like the back of their hands. Besides, I don't write quickly enough. Anyway, I've noticed that we've been doing better as the night progresses. Maybe we just needed to warm up

I grip my stylus tightly as Jovian asks the next question. "Which victor won by riding a rabid mutt into the opposing alliance?"

The timer begins to tick, and I'm stuck. I look over, and I see Arden steaming with fury. Losing isn't her thing. Every the inner districts seem stumped. What is it, what is it? This was an old one… I can almost see it! The timer is ticking… ticking. That's it. The old victor from Three. Jayar MacIntosh. I scribble down the name and slam the buzzer.

First.

Inner districts, here we come. After my buzzer sounds, it seems to click in everyone's mind. I see Angus scribbling down a name, and buzzer after buzzer is sounded. Chase from Five lets out an expletive when his buzzer comes in sixth, barely late.

"Jayar MacIntosh is correct!" Jovian announces. I was first. That's enough to give us a fighting chance. "Now, it's time to move on to the second stage!" he says, "When you know the answer, you slam that buzzer and give your answer!" Good. I'm good with speed. "Question One! How many years ago did Belinda Longhorn win?"

I slam the buzzer. "Four hundred and seventy-six," I say. I know this stuff. Round one was just warming up. I utter a silent thank-you to my dad. We learn this stuff in school. That studying paid off.

"Malchus Henatite's birthday."

Slam. "September 22nd."

"Who won the six hundredth and twenty-third Games?"

Slam. "Ryker Brayk, District Six."

"Victor of the two-hundredth and first?"

Slam. "Trick Question. No one won. Final two died at the same time."

"How many time did Cecelia Paisley get pregnant?"

Slam. "Four. One was a miscarriage."

"Who did Cartier Adamantium marry?"

Slam. "Shylis Glam, two years younger than him." The Ones don't look too happy, considering he's their victor.

My heart is beating faster and faster. I can't keep still in the excitement of the moment. One question after another. I can do this. This is just like a test. Imperial beats me to one or two, but now, the ball is solidly in my court. Angus leans back and smiles. My money total grows larger and larger.

The night soon draws near to a close, and I've racked up more money than in my wildest dreams. My palm is sore from slamming the buzzer, and my mouth is dry from shouting. Jovian dismisses the crowd. "Thank you all for being here tonight, and to all of you tuning in from home, thank you. One last round of applause for our tributes!"

The crowd applauds and they begin to leave. Angus grabs me and squeezes me in a tight hug, his face radiant. "Let's go talk to Alder and Arden," he suggests.

We walk over to them.

Alder immediately congratulates me. "You carried us. I'm so glad you're in!"

Arden gulps. "Look," she says, "I- I'm sorry for doubting you. You're pretty good." I can tell this is hard for her.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "We won this; that's all that matters."

"Oh, by the way," Alder says, "We need a plan for the Cornucopia."

The atmosphere immediately darkens, but we all know he's being reasonable. We've got one full day left.

"Let's just grab what we need and get out. All of us grab our own weapons," Angus says. "Arden and Alder, if you don't mind, get any food you find. Star, you find first aid supplies."

"What about you," Arden says, not taking orders very well.

"I'll just grab as many backpacks as I can," he says.

"But that's the most dangerous," Alder points out.

"I know," Angus says. "That's why I'm doing it."

We're all silent until Angus breaks the silence.

"Well, don't worry. It'll work out fine."

I hear the worry in his voice. In all the excitement, I had forgotten that this is still a deathmatch.

And these promises mean nothing in the arena.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Creek vs Naia Round Two… who do you think won this round? How will affect the two?**

 **2\. Pixel… How do you feel about her now? Where do you think this will go?**

 **3\. Arden… Thoughts on her? How will she be received during the interviews? How do you feel about Klinka?**

 **4\. Star… Did this come as a surprise? How will this affect the 7 & 10 alliance?**

 **5\. Predictions? Thoughts? Was the Game Show a good idea?**

 **If you haven't been checking the blog, you should do that. Two new characters from this chapter were added to the blog at:**

 **ecclesiastesverse. weebly. com**

 **Only the interviews left before the bloodbath…**

 **I'll hopefully be up with another chapter by Thursday.**


	21. The Interviews

**A/N What's 9 + 10? The 21st chapter!**

 **...okay I know that was bad, but this really is the 21** **st** **chapter. Here are the interviews! Also, two new characters were just added to the blog.**

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female**_

I sit on a swivel chair, looking out of the window at the beautiful Capitol as my stylist Lysander and my prep team finish up with my makeup for the interviews. Odelia, my mentor, took me out for lunch in a little cafe today, and it was amazing. The coffee here is especially good, and I wish we had this stuff back in One. I've always known that the Capitol is generous, but now I also see what we don't get.

"There," Lysander says, throwing up his arms, "Magnificent!" He turns my chair to face the mirror. "What do you think?"

I'm dressed in a reddish-pink dress, a color that's delicate and soft on your eyes. My face is a little pale, but that's supposedly all the rage here. I can put up with that. My makeup is not very heavy, purposefully making me look calm and gentle.

I smile. "Thank you. How much time do we have left before we leave?"

He looks at the clock and lets out an exclamation of surprise. "None! Let's get moving!"

We leave the room and enter the main room of the District One Tribute Quarters. Imperial is waiting by the elevator with his stylist, and he's dressed smartly in a suit that screams business as well as handsome.

If there's one person in our alliance I don't trust, it's him. Maybe if he was his old self, I would, but definitely not now. The Games have changed him so much. Back home, though he was opportunistic, he was generally careful with his words and loyal. Now, he's so much more talkative, and he almost always has a smile on, which I highly suspect is fake. I don't know if he'll be as loyal as he used to be. That's why I've done my best not to stand out among my allies. I could match Aemilia one on one if I wanted to, but I'll let Imperial think I'm weak and too nice. If the alliance breaks prematurely, I'm not the one dying.

Imperial waves me over though we're going to the elevator anyway. We go down to a little car, which drives us through the streets of the Capitol to where the interviews are held.

I'm led to a small room backstage, where Lysander fixes my makeup and gives me a content smile.

"There," he says, "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," I say as music begins to play outside and Jovian begins to talk up the crowd. A man comes to get me and leads me to a hallway, where most the other tributes are already waiting in a line. Since I'm first, I'm at the front of the line. A door that opens onto the stage stands in front of me.

"Please welcome this year's tributes!" I hear Jovian say. The door is opened, and we all walk along the back of the stage, where twenty-four chairs are waiting for us, each one labeled with our name.

I find my seat, but I don't have much time before Jovian is calling me up.

"First, from lovely District One, we have Aria Sierra!"

I stand up, glide to the front of the stage, and sit down in the interviewee seat. I wave to the crowd, which is excited and hyped up.

"My, my, you are lovely today," he says.

"So are you," I say. If in doubt, give out compliments. "I remember that when I was a little girl, I'd watch the Games coverage just to see you. I thought you were so cute." This is all false, of course, anyone at home knows that, but it only makes me look good.

He laughs. "Thank you, Aria, but let's cut to the chase, the good stuff that we all want to know. We all saw you volunteer, and I'm sure that many of us were shocked when you just appeared on the stage like that," he says, snapping his fingers on the last word. "What is your secret?"

I hesitate for effect.

"Don't worry, you can tell us," he says, trying to coax the answer out of me.

"It's to never underestimate anyone," I say, "I believe that you can do anything if you believe in yourself, but that also applies to others. So, I watch everyone, not just those that seem threatening."

He nods his head. "Very true, Aria. Do you believe you can win?"

"Yes," I say, mustering all the confidence I have. "At first, I was a little unsure, since this is a new experience for me, but now, I'm sure I can win."

"And why might that be?"

I pause and picture my family in my mind. "You first need to know that I have a pretty big family," I say, "There's Alexander. He's sixteen, and whenever I need someone to talk to, I talk to him. Then there's Ava. She's twelve, and she's the sassiest little girl you'll ever find." I laugh, and the audience smiles with me. "And then there's Alvis. He's eight, and he's so cute sometimes. He's probably glaring at the screen right now because he doesn't like people to call him cute." I wink at the camera, just to tease him. The audience loves it. "Anyway, after I got home after being chosen to volunteer, they all were so proud of me," I say, "Even little Alvis looked at me like I was some superstar. I won't let them down," I say, "Besides, I owe it all to the Capitol. I wouldn't be where I am without it."

"Is that all?"

"Well," I say, grinning, "It was, but today, Oralia, my mentor, took me to the Au Lait Cafe. The coffee here is to die for."

The buzzer rings, and I thank the crowd before going back to my seat.

There. That was the last Ceremony. Tomorrow, the real Games begin.

 _ **Button Davenport, 15, District Eight Female**_

Aria's dress is really pretty. The way that the folds reflect the light makes her look gentle. If I go home, I'll look it up. After she sits back down, Imperial is called up. He ends with a call to buy jewelry from Agau. I guess it's true that everything they show on television is advertising now. Aemilia is very confident, and Androcles is a little scary with the way he glares at everyone. Pixel talks about her babies back home. I talked to her during training, and she seems like a nice person. Digit refuses to cooperate. Naia is loud and defiant, while Creek is all nice with the Capitol. What's his deal, anyway? Elysia is forgettable, and Jovian struggles trying to get Chase to speak more than a sentence at a time. Sonic is mischievous, but underneath her playfulness, I see a scary seriousness. Note to self: Stay away from her. Aleczander seems undecided as to what to say. Arden is back with her sass and spunk, and the audience loves her. Alder appeals to family.

"Button Davenport!"

I stumble off my chair and go up to the front.

"Good evening, Button," he says, "You do have a nice sense of style."

"Thanks, Jovian," I say, "I picked it out and fixed it up myself. My stylist wasn't too happy though."

The audience laughs.

"Where did you learn this?" he asks.

"My dad is Stephen, or Stitch, Davenport," I explain, "I think he's quite well known here."

"Why yes, he is!" Jovian says. He leans over and shows me the inside of his jacket. "This very jacket was designed by him. Of course, his daughter is just as talented!"

Some members of the audience turn to look at the tags of their own clothes.

"Now, Button. We all can see your sense of style. But tell me, what makes you a serious contender in this year's Hunger Games."

"Well," I say, "Everything comes down to your perspective, right? Like for example, it's usually cloudy in Eight, so when the sun comes out, I have to out and see. However, some people, like my mom, see it as a waste of time. We see it differently. Same here. If you look at my score, I'm not that impressive. But the thing is, I'm not stupid, and there are some things that the score won't tell you. If you look at it from this perspective, I am very much a threat."

"And what might your strength be?"

"Art."

"Art?"

"Yes, art," I say, "There are more opportunities for art in the Hunger Games than you might expect."

"Such as?"

I see where he's going with this. "You'll see," I say as the buzzer sounds. "Well, it's been nice talking to you."

I go back to my seat.

I meant everything I said. How am I going to use art, you might ask.

Well, there's a lot more creativity in traps than you might expect.

 _ **Senwe Barric, 17, District Nine Male**_

The girl from Eight tries to sound threatenin', but right now, she just sounds a little off, like she's got no idea what she's talkin' 'bout. She probably doesn't.

Her partner is called up, and Jovian soon asks how Zash scored so high.

"Well," Zash says, "I told a story. Yeah, yeah, I know that it doesn't, umm, make much sense, but um, I'll have to, umm, demonstrate."

Jovian is on the edge of the seat as Zash begins to speak. I immediately notice that the boy loses his insecure stutterin' and begins to speak in a soothin', captivatin' voice.

"So, once upon a time, there was a boy. It could've been any boy, but it was this boy. Why? I don't know. Whatever reason, one day, he was summoned to the Capitol of the region, a huge, shining city…"

He tells the story of this boy and what he's forced to do to survive, and the audience is mesmerized. The boy, when taken to perform for a group of haughty jailers, tells a story within this story. Ha. I get it. Backhandedly mockin' the Capitol. Nice job, kiddo. When the buzzer sounds, no one pays attention until Zash ends with a "The End." Jovian, slightly flustered, hurriedly thanks Zash before callin' Diara. So this is how Zash scored a 7 but ranked really low. His stories are full of entertainment value, but he doesn't have the physical skills to back it up.

Diara stresses her independence and how self-reliant she is, coming across as a bit proud. Knowin' her, she is a bit proud, but the Capitol doesn't mind. She claims with confidence that she's got through life relyin' on herself. I don't know her, so I don't know if it's true, but considerin' how she acts, I wouldn't be surprised. Her buzzer sounds.

"Now, also from District Nine, Senwe Barric!"

I stroll up to center stage, keepin' my confident smile on.

"Hello, Jovian," I say, greetin' the man. He holds out his hand and I shake it. We sit down.

"How has your stay in the Capitol been?" he asks.

"It's been magnificent," I say, irony lacin' my voice, "But it's kinda hard to enjoy everything when you've got a deathmatch hangin' over your head, eh?"

"Well, um," he says, "True, true. What have you enjoyed the most?"

"The food's good," I say, "The bread is really good here compared to home. It's kind of ironic how the grain district has worse bread than the Capitol, isn't it."

"Well, we _do_ have excellent chefs that are trained in the science and art of baking."

I shrug. "Could be."

"Now, Senwe," he says, "We're all dying to k—"

"You mean that literally?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, move on."

"Anyway," he says, "I bet we all just need to know how you got that score of 8. It's mighty impressive."

"Pshaw," I say, "Remember? That 8 you speak of is purely 'bout entertainment value. You don't need to get that much skill to score an 8. But who knows what I did in there. Not like I'm tellin'."

Jovian seems at a lack of words. Then again, he usually doesn't deal with this.

"So… How do you estimate your odds to be?"

"It could be better, could be worse," I say, thoroughly frustratin' him. "Though if you're askin' me, I'd say that my odds ain't bad. I've got a few weapon and survival skills as well as the strength to back it up." I look up at that timer counting down my time. Ten seconds. "Go in, get out. I'll see you then."

Thankfully, the buzzer sounds at the right moment, so I wave one last time and leave. That was easier than I thought.

The Tens seems quite popular with the crowd, since the guy's dad, mayor of Ten, passed down speakin' skill and the girl's crazy smart. The Elevens are, frankly, forgettable compared to some of the others, though they are nice, and the ones from Twelve seem like little bloodbaths.

With that, the interviews are over. I wave to Digit, who comes over.

"Nice interview," he says, "I've never seen anyone trip up Jovian like that."

I wipe my forehead. "Nice one yourself."

"Nah, I'm not helping myself at all with what I said, but it's satisfying to do that."

"Best line ever."

 _ **Magnolia Beaux, 17, District Eleven Female**_

The elevator doors open, and we're back in our Tribute Quarters. Tonight is the last night I will ever set foot in this place, well, unless I win. How depressive, and I thought that my life back in Eleven was sad.

"So… umm," Hirst mumbles, trying to start a conversation. He's been nice to me, and it's a little unsettling not knowing why.

"It's okay," I say, "You don't have to fill in the silence."

Now that I think about it, some quietness would be nice. Hirst looks at me and gets my point, so he leaves for his room.

My mentor, Ramb, looks up from his book. He's an old man now, but he has a twinkle in his eye when he looks at me. "You know, that boy really likes you."

"Oh please," I say.  
"No, really."

I don't bother replying to that. "Do you know anywhere where I can get some peace and quiet?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "Umm, there's the roof."

"How do I get there?"

"You have to take the stairs. We're lucky to be so far up; the roof is convenient."

"Thanks Ramb," I say, heading for the stairwell. I climb the two flights and step out onto the roof. It takes my breath away. The first thing I notice is the sky, full of stars. Seeing something so big makes my imminent death seem like a small problem. I stroll along the railing until I reach a little garden. The many white flowers reflect the moonlight, creating a surreal feel. I sit on the bench, and a fragrance from one of the flowers wafts in my direction. It's a form of jasmine; we have these back home. A tear manages to escape my eyes as I think of home, Grandma Eden, my friends. How I wish I was there.

I see the door open, and a guy steps out onto the roof, closing the door behind him. Hurriedly, I wipe away that one tear with my sleeve as I recognize him to be Hirst. What does he want?

"Hey," he says, after he's close enough to recognize me.

"What do you want?" I say.

"I just came up to see if you were okay," he says. If I was okay?

"How did you know I was here?"

"Ramb told me." He moves closer, and when he sits down on the bench, I scoot to the other side. "What?"

"What do you want," I repeat, "What do you want from me?"

"I just want you," he says, "Nothing else."

Me? Is he hinting that…

Then again, my mom's family said I wouldn't be good for anything but a whore.

He sees the shocked expression on my face. "No, no, no. Not want you like a jerk wants a whore. Want you as in I want to get to know _you_."

"But why would you do that?" I say, "I'm no one good. My parents are despicable. I'm not the person you want."

"No," he says, "I want to know you because you seem like a nice person. I see you take care of Grandma Eden, and I see you working hard."

"You've been watching me?" I say.

"Look," he says, "I, uh, I- I really like you. Like I- I love you."

He himself seems surprised at what he just said. "You're serious?" I say, "Or is this a ploy for the Games?"

"No, really," he says, "I listen to Grover talk about you. And who cares what your background is?"

"You know," I say, "This is… really hard to digest. I need some time."

Hirst gets up. "I understand. But we're still allies, right?"

"Allies."

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Aria… How has she changed? Do you like her perspective?**

 **2\. Button… Any surprises here? What do you predict?**

 **3\. Senwe… How far do you think the Senwe/Digit/Naia alliance will last?**

 **4\. Magnolia… More Hirstolia! Who's still looking forward to more? How did I write this? I've never really written romance.**

 **5\. The Games begin next chapter! Who do you think will die in the bloodbath?**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **~Joseph**


	22. The Bloodbath

**A/N Dun, dun, DUN! What did you expect? A bad joke or a cheesy pick-up line? Hmm… let me think.**

 **Knock knock.**

…

 **C'mon, you guys are no fun. I'll try this again.**

 **Knock knock.**

 _ **(Who's there)**_

 **Dishes**

 _ **(Dishes who?)**_

 **Dishes a very bad joke.**

… **(credit to Undertale)...**

 **Wasn't funny enough? Anyway, it doesn't matter because it's the bloodbath. It's not supposed to be funny.**

 **The last new character, Jacquard DeRoy, mentor for District Eight, has been added to the blog. There probably won't be any new characters until the end of the Games.**

* * *

 **Also, as we begin, here are the alliances. There are a lot of them, but at this point in time, alliances are seen to be desirable:**

 **Inner-District Trained + Creek: Imperial Gallium, Aria Sierra, Androcles Diorite, Aemelia Melanite, Creek Langston**

 **Outer-District Trained: Alder Blackwood, Arden Caville, Angus Derwin, Star Vexbleuten**

 **Badass Rebels (Name courtesy of LlamaRoid): Digit Fuse, Naia Whyte, Senwe Barric**

 **Hirstolia: Hirst Arum, Magnolia Beaux**

' **Cause Why Not?: Elysia Veton, Diara Hulston**

 **Nice Girls: Pixel Lockdell, Jessamine Hale**

 **(No Name): Chase Arclight, Amos Brekenridge**

* * *

 **And by the way, the POVs overlap. There's too much going on at the same time.**

* * *

 _ **Zash Kamzoil, 15, District Eight Male**_

Thycia, my stylist, wakes me up with a sharp rap of her knuckles. I don't protest; it's no use. A hero would've protested, but I'm not one. I follow her like a sheep going to slaughter—well, I think that's what it is. I've never seen a real sheep, much less one being slaughtered.

When I stumble to the elevator, I see that Jacquard, my mentor, is already waiting for me.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "You'll do alright, okay?"

"Mmhm."

"Just don't lose focus. Keep your eyes on your goal. Be careful."

"Okay."

The elevator doors open, so he gives me a side hug and I leave. Thycia takes a key card and waves it over a pad, unlocking a locked compartment and revealing a button labeled "roof." So that's how it's supposed to work. We go up to the roof, where a hovercraft is waiting for us.

 _The hero is taken to a hovercraft, which is here to transport him to his death. His escort seems sympathetic, but you can't trust any of these people. He sits in the corner and waits._

Thycia pleads with me to eat something, but I have no appetite. "Please, Zash," she says, "Your mentor said to keep your eyes on your goal. Eating a bit will give you some energy, helping you win."

I grab a granola bar and halfheartedly take a bite for Jacquard. She shakes her head and goes back to whatever she does. Suddenly, the windows go back. We're near the arena.

 _The hero balls his hands into fists. His death is imminent, but he's determined to stay strong. There are many other captives going to the same place where he is, some of them stronger and better. If he can't live, he'll help one of those live. However, there are also some people in there that were sent from his enemies. He has to be careful. If he must, he'll try to take those out._

Thycia leads me to a small, white, spotless room with the metal launch pad in the corner. She makes me take a shower in the small adjacent bathroom, and this time, she has the decency to stay out. When I come back out, she gets the uniform. She first gives me a brown undershirt, and then I get a thin jacket.

"The jacket is fully waterproof," she says, "And both are really thin. It will either be really warm or freezing in there."

Next, I put on a pair of gray cargo pants with a durable belt, and finally, I get a pair of knee-high rain boots.

"It's definitely going to be wet in there," she says, "So I'm guessing really warm." She looks at my outfit again. "That's all I can give you, sorry. I don't know anything else."

"It's okay," I say.

 _The hero smiles. Even the escort is giving him information. A voice announces that there are sixty seconds left until launch. He slowly steps onto the metal tube. His escort waves at him, seemingly oblivious to what's going on. Maybe she is._

 _10._

 _9._

 _8._

 _7._

 _6._

 _5._

 _4._

 _3._

 _2._

 _1._

 _A glass tube comes down around him, and the platform begins to rise._

The first thing I notice is the warmth and humidity, and when my other senses acclimate, I see that I'm in a marsh surrounded by a swamp. The Cornucopia sits on a wooden platform in the middle of the grasses and reeds, and many of the other supplies are on poles and rocks scattered throughout the marsh.

Jovian's voice booms in the arena, though I don't see where the sound is coming from. "Let the 998th Annual Hunger Games… Begin!"

The countdown begins. Digit stands on my left, while Diara is on my right. I look forward at the supplies. I know that Digit will probably go in Senwe's direction, bringing him away from me, so I should go for supplies to my slight left. The closest trained tribute is Star, on the other side of Digit, so I should be okay. Out of all the trained ones, she is the least menacing.

Ten seconds left. I brace myself to run on the flooded ground.

The gong rings.

I immediately rush forward, and I'm surprised by how deep my foot sinks into the soil. I force myself forward and grab the nearest backpack, just as Digit rams into me at full force, snatching it away. Darn. I duck down into the grass and quickly look around to see whether I need to run or not. I hear a scream, and when I look, I see that Arden has cut down Pixel. Naia and Creek are fighting on the other side of the Cornucopia. I see Imperial gathering weapons. Androcles and Senwe are wrestling it out. Aemilia is on the other side of the Cornucopia, going to help Creek.

Aria stands in the mouth of the Cornucopia, holding a bow. She shoots, and it hits Button, who goes down screaming. I feel hot with anger.

 _The hero, furious, sees that the path to the killer girl is almost wide open. His comrade must be avenged. He sneaks forward, avoiding attention. As he gets nearer, he picks up a sharp, gleaming dagger. When the killer girl turns her back to him, he lunges forward._

I stab my knife at her, but she twists her body and slams her metal bow into me. She adeptly twirls a nearby spear.

 _The hero knows that he's doomed now, but he refuses to give up. He presses forward, even in the face of death._

When I go down, I go down fighting.

 _ **Androcles Diorite, 17, District Two Male**_

The countdown begins, and I look around at the ring of tributes. First target: Senwe. He's the strongest guy without an entire hoard of allies behind him. I gesture to Imperial, who's several podiums to my left, and tell him to take care of Digit. He gives an exaggerated sigh and flashes a "thumbs up." Ten seconds left.

The gong rings.

I charge towards the boy as he nears the Cornucopia and tackle him into the marshy ground. He tries to flip me off, but I'm much too strong for that. I try to hold his face underwater, but he breaks my grip and rolls me into the muddy water. Mud splashes into my face. I grab a handful and try to force it into his eyes. He moves out of the way before I can get it in. He turns over and tries to hold me down, obviously untrained in what to do. I knee him in the groin and force him off of me as he reels in pain. I get on top of him, and he rolls me over. We flip several times, each time getting closer to the Cornucopia. He punches me in the face, but I use the chance to get up. We're right beside the Cornucopia at this point. He tries to tackle me. I bend over and grab him, flipping him over into the golden horn. I grab a nearby knife, but I see that he's trying to run now. I lunge forwards, grabbing his hair with my left hand, and as his head flips back, I cut his throat with the knife in my right hand. He goes down, blood spattering everywhere.

I run over to a set of throwing axes, buried in the grass. His district partner is trying to run into the swamp. First the guy, now the girl. I aim and throw.

 _ **Amos Breckenridge, 13, District Twelve Male**_

After the gong ring, Chase and I run to the meeting point and grab our supplies. I saw the archer girl at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Thankfully, we're on the other side of the horn. I hear a scream, and I see Pixel being chopped in half by the girl from Seven. We start moving out, but I see Jessamine scream as she stumbles, crying about Pixel. The guy from Six stands over her, his hand trembling as he holds a knife, indecisiveness written on his face.

"Jessamine!" I call, running over.

"Amos!"

I grip my knife, take a deep breath, and charge at the boy from Six. I slam the knife into his back, and I feel a sickening crack as the knife goes into his body. He screams and falls over.

"Jessamine!" I say, hurrying over to her, "Are you okay?"

"P-Pixel" she wails, "Sh- She's-"

"I know," I say, "Let's go! We have to run!"

She tries to stand up, but she's such in shock that she has trouble keeping her balance.

"Here," I say, "I'll help." I pull her up, and she falls on me, crying onto my shoulder.

"Amos!" I hear Chase call, "Watch out!"

Before I can react, there's a flash of pain and Jessamine screams. I look behind me, and I see Imperial, his spear going through me into Jessamine. I feel a jerk as the spear leaves my body. I can't stand, especially with Jessamine's weight on me, and we fall into the mud and water. It hurts, so much. Jessamine's going white from pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chase coming this way.

"Go!" I croak. Chase has to run, or else he'll die. He doesn't hear me, and he's trying to fight Imperial. He can't beat Imperial, who's trained and experienced.

"GO!" I scream. Chase hears me. He looks down at me, pain in his eyes. He gives one last push, forcing Imperial back, and runs for the protection of the trees.

Now I lie here, awaiting death. Jessamine whimpers softly, and I weakly put a hand on her. District Twelve, gone in one thrust of a spear. I'm sorry, Raven, Maude, Mom and Dad.

I hope I made you proud.

 _ **Elysia Veton, 17, District Five Female**_

I watch as the girl from One slams her bow into the head of the boy from Eight. Once he's down, she stabs him over and over with a spear. The boy from Two slits Senwe's neck, and he runs for the axes. Those two are deadly with their ranged weapons; I have to get Diara out of here.

I grab a scythe for Diara and pick up a green backpack, slinging it over my arm as I run for my ally, who's fighting for a backpack with the girl from Eleven. The girl's partner arrives on the scene before I can get there, and together, they wrench the backpack away from Diara.

I get to her, and she gets up and brushes herself off. I hand her the scythe.

"Thanks," she says, panting.

"I got a bag," I say, "We don't have time. We have to go."

She agrees reluctantly, and we begin to run for the trees. I see the guy from One spear the two little ones from Twelve, and I turn away. The water makes it hard to run; any later and we'll both be dead. I look back, and I see the guy from Two aim his ax at Diara.

"Diara!" I scream, leaping in front of her. I shove her to the ground as the ax hits. There's fire in my chest, and I scream. It hurts. My body is being torn apart. The world begins to grow numb. I hear someone call my name, probably Diara. She'll be fine. She's smart enough to leave me and run for the trees. I know that my journey ends here, but I'm satisfied.

I've finally found meaning in my life.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. How close were your predictions?**

 **2\. Was it realistic?**

 **3\. Will you miss any of them?**

 **4\. Predictions from here?**

…

 **So, I've decided to put the eulogies at the end of every day; i.e., every chapter with "The Fallen" broadcast. Credit for this idea goes to TranscendentElvenRanger.**

 **Now for the serious talk. If your tribute died, I'm assuming you're not too happy, eh? Well, I only killed tributes which seemed to have inactive readers. If you haven't reviewed or PMed me, I assume you're inactive. If you're a lurker and your tribute survived, congratulations! You got lucky. Remember though, I tend to think twice about killing tributes with active readers. I'm not saying that reviewing determines your tribute's fate, but it does play a major role.**

 **I may take a little bit before posting the next chapter since I have to decide exactly where the story goes from here.**

 **~Joseph**


	23. The Games, Day 1

**A/N Umm... Let's see... I can't think of a good intro :(**

 **Anyway, Day 1. It begins near the end of the 12 REVIEWS? Y'ALL ARE AWESOME.**

 **And also, I killed 8 because that's considered realistic based on the books.**

 _ **Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female**_

"Elysia!" I scream as Androcles' ax hits her chest, breaking her bones with a loud crack. I crawl to my feet. "Elysia! NO!"

I blink. Clear your mind. Clear your mind! I don't have to think to know that Elysia won't survive. Androcles aims another ax. If I die here, Elysia would have died for nothing. I scramble to my feet and dash into the swamp. An ax strikes a tree beside me, so I zigzag among the tall trees to make it harder for him to aim. Mud and water splash everywhere and my legs are getting tired, but I dare not stop. Don't think about it, Diara, don't think. Just run. Just run. Ignore the pain. Ignore everything.

My foot catches on a tree root and I fall face down in the shallow water, which is a few inches deep. I push myself up and stumble forward, climbing onto a mound of soil covered with moss and grasses that gives me temporary relief from the water. I crumble to the ground, and the dam in my mind that keeps me from thinking breaks, letting the thoughts spill out. Elysia's eyes, blank, flash in my mind. She threw herself in front of that ax. I would've died. I rub my eyes. But how? Why? No one really cares about me. I thought I had kept a distance from her. I thought that she was just another person to me. I couldn't have been more wrong. Her last words echo in my ear, screaming for me. Before she died, she grabbed things for me. While I was busy thinking about myself, she was focused on me.

I blink my eyes, trying not to cry.

"Stay strong, Diara," I mumble, trying to defend myself, "It was nothing. Nothing at all. She was nothing… See, you're calm now. It was nothing. I'm calm."

I pause. I'm under control.

I'm not.

The tears begin to come as Elysia's face returns to my mind. She died for me. Maybe she does deserve enough for someone to grieve for her. Her body is probably on a hovercraft, going back to her home in Five, but will there be anyone there to grieve for her? I saw the bruise marks; she was abused. Did anyone care for her? Diara, how could you have been so insensitive? I want to slap myself. I'm a horrible person. I'm selfish, useless, and abhorrent.

I gasp for air as the voice of reason begins to speak again.

Calm down. Calm down. Get yourself together. She'll have died for nothing if you can't pull yourself together. Slowly, regular breathing returns.

Breathe in, breathe out.

My backpack. I have a backpack. And my scythe. I have a scythe.

I swing the bag off my shoulder and unzip it. There's a rope. I remember a bit of that stuff, but not much. It should be helpful in a place like this, though. I find a small pack of matches. It'll be useful, especially since the dense forestry makes the flame hard to see. The only challenge will be finding a place to build a fire in this flooded arena. There are a few strips of jerky encased in plastic, as well as a box of crackers. I'll be able to survive off of these for a few days. I check the nooks and the crannies of the backpack, and I find a few safety pins as well as a rubber band. Maybe it'll come in handy. I look around at the arena around me. Huge trees, at least two feet in diameter, make up the majority of the swamp, their huge roots partially above water. Vines and branches entwine above me, creating a canopy. A few shrubs are here and there.

The cannons begin to sound.

Elysia, I won't let you down.

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female**_

The marsh around the Cornucopia is starting to empty out. The Outer District alliance is grabbing a few remaining supplies, and the Inner District Alliance doesn't touch them because they're in a tight group together. Even if Arden goes down, her allies will turn on the Inner District alliance. Plus, there's me. I dodge another thrust of Creek's spear and return with my own. Once again, he dodges with ease.

We circle each other. We're pretty evenly matched; my lack of training is made up for by my agility and speed. The rest of Creek's allies are beginning to come this way. I've gotta get outta here quickly or else I'm dead. Creek is slowly forcing me closer and closer to the Cornucopia. Once I'm too close, I'm trapped and dead. I spy Digit, leaving the marsh for the swamp. He turns around, probably just to take one last look, but I catch his eye. Creek swings again. I dodge. Silently, I plead with Digit to come help me out. He shakes his head. Please.

He hangs his bag on a branch and begins to come this way, keeping himself hidden in the grass. Now, I just have to stall Creek.

"So, traitor," I say, "You aren't satisfied with abandoning our district? You have to kill me too?"

"I could say the same about you," he says through clenched teeth.

It's true. I did try to take him out first and weaken his alliance, but my goal isn't to win this argument. Digit is almost here now.

"Well," I say, watching as my ally comes up behind Creek, "You might want to watch your back."

"Ha! You think I'll fall fo-"

He's cut off as Digit stabs Creek in the shoulder. We take off for the trees, our boots splashing in the water of the marsh, and Creek curses after us. An ax whizzes past my head when I take a turn to the left, and I double my pace.

Finally, we reach the cover of the swamp, panting.

"Thanks," I say, "I'd be dead without you."

"Yeah," he says lifelessly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Ohhh… His ally. "Senwe?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

I become aware of the drawstring bag slung on my back.

"Give me a sec," I say, putting the bag down on a mess of tree roots. "Not much. An empty bottle and matches. You?"

"I got a can of beans and some wire. What do you think we're supposed to do first?"

"I don't know…. Find water? Yeah, we're surrounded by it, but we can't drink this unless we boil it…" I say, "That's it! The matches can be used to start a fire and then we can boil water in the can."

"It's worth a try," he says, "Should we move out a bit?"

"Sure," I say, "No place to light a fire here anyway."

But before we can do much, the mud beneath the murky, foot-deep water begins to give way. Quicksand. Or quickdirt.

"Get on your knees!" I shout. We have these at home sometimes, and we've all been trained on how to deal with it. I drop down to try to spread out my weight. Slowly, I inch towards a large root. I look back at Digit. He seems to be doing fine, albeit a little shaken up. I grab on to the tree root and push myself up.

"The ground here is stable," I say. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he grunts, "My bag's fine too."

I look down. Shoot. My bag wasn't so lucky, and since I was holding it, it's soaked. The matches are wet too. I can fix that, but life just got more complicated.

"The matches are wet, but I can fix it."

"Good."

We continue walking in silence. "Umm, Naia?"

"What?"

"You need to know that the Gamemakers probably don't like me much. Band with me at your own risk."

"Same," I say. "Well then, we can suffer together."

He snorts. "Like we haven't been suffering?"  
"True."

But one thing is certain. If the Gamemakers hate both of us, these Games are gonna get bad.

Really bad.

 _ **Creek Langston, 18, District Four Male**_

I watch helplessly as Naia and her rebel friend disappear into the swamp. I know that pursuing them is useless; it'll only get me killed. Besides, my left shoulder hurts too much. I slowly walk back to where the rest of the pack are. They could've helped out. Or maybe they wanted to see if I could handle her. Either way, I don't say anything about it. I'd rather not push my luck. Aemilia raises an eyebrow as I approach, and I stare at the ground. She shrugs.

"So," she says, "Anyone have any opinions as to what to do?"

Aria looks up from a backpack she's packing, "Well, we need to take the supplies we need and get moving."

"Why can't we just stick to the Cornucopia?" Androcles asks, "You know, post a guard or two and send the rest hunting."

Aria doesn't skip a beat. "The Sevens and Tens are allied this year," she says, "If we keep all the supplies here and post a guard, the Sevens and Tens could waltz in, overpower the guards and take all they want. If we keep three people back, then the two that get sent out won't be able to take down the other district alliance if they run into each other." She zips her bag and slings it onto her shoulder. "We need to take what's necessary and move out."

No one can argue with her logic, so we each pack a bag. Aria comes over to me.

"Hey, want me to clean up that wound?" she says.

"Sure," I say, wincing. "Thanks."

"Here," she says, sitting me down on the wooden platform that the Cornucopia sits on.

She grabs a piece of cloth and begins to push down on the wound. It hurts. I grunt.

"I know it hurts," she says, "Hold on. I have to stop the bleeding."

After a minute or two, she gets some rubbing alcohol. I clench my teeth as she rubs it into the wound, and I ball my hands into fists to try to stop from screaming. It burns like heck, and it feels like someone lit a match and is searing it into my skin.

"Okay," she says, grabbing some gauze and tape. She wraps it a few times and fastens it. "Should be good. It's not ideal, but there's nothing better I can do."

"Thanks," I say.

"No problem."

Aria seems too nice for this. Out of all my allies, she's the only one that doesn't feel like a killer, and I'm still surprised that she had two kills in the bloodbath, the same number as Androcles and Imperial and more than everyone else.

I hurriedly look around for supplies, and I pack some food as well as a few daggers and a fishhook. Even if we can't fish, it reminds me of home. Even after we're done, there is still a pile of weapons and other supplies.

"Let's burn it," Androcles says, pulling out a match. We take them all and put them on the Cornucopia platform, adding extra wood and tinder. Androcles strikes the match and throws it onto the pile. It catches fire, and soon, the whole thing is engulfed in flames. All of a sudden, the entire thing falls through the platform into the water below, but the wood around the hole continues to burn.

"Well, no one is getting that," Imperial says, "Even if it was still good."

I shrug with my right shoulder, the good one, and Imperial smiles when he sees it. "Well, I guess, let's go."

 _ **Chase Arclight, 16, District Five Male**_

I've spent the day wandering the swamp. The arena is exactly what it seemed like — a muddy, shallow swamp. I've seen nothing else so far. I guess the Gamemakers wanted something more normal this year. I walk up onto a slightly elevated pile of dirt and rocks.

 _Don't think about it. Just focus on survival. Block out everything else._

The sun will be going down in an hour or so, so I'll need a place to sleep. One disadvantage of this arena is that even sleeping is a hassle since the ground is mud covered by a foot-deep layer of water. I think I remember something about this from training…

That's it. Elevation. In wetlands, you want to sleep above the ground, where pathogens thrive in the moist climate. I look around at the trees in this area, many of which have low sturdy branches. That's it. I'll build an elevated bed. Work will help distract my mind anyway.

First, I find four trees, arranged in a roughly rectangular shape, all with low branches.I find two sturdy branches, which isn't too hard, and cut them off, which takes a bit more effort. Next, I stick the branches through forks in the trees,and then I place branches on top of the two big branches, stretching from one of the branches I cut to the other one, forming a platform. I stand back. It doesn't look too comfortable, but it'll do. I sit down on the edge of it and look up at the orange sky through cracks in the canopy. The sun is going down. It's almost the end of Day One.

Free of work, my mind inevitably turns to the bloodbath. Amos. I failed him. If I had gone over with him, I would've been able to save both him and Jessamine. I could've carried her. How was I supposed to know that Amos would stop to help his partner?

The sky is dark now, and the national anthem begins to play as the fallen tributes appear in the night sky.

First is the girl from Three. She had two babies; she probably deserved to live more than I did. She probably wasn't a failure like me.

Next is Elysia. Dead? I could've sworn I saw her alive. What happened?

Next is the guy from Six, who Amos killed to save Jessamine. Then the two from Eight are next, and then the guy from Nine. I saw part of his fight with Androcles; I kinda wish he had won.

Amos. His face is next in the night sky, his face serious as always.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

Finally, Jessamine's face appears, ending the recap. Eight dead on the first day. I could've saved two of them. Several of them deserve to live more than I do. I couldn't save anyone. First, I couldn't save Cassy, my own sister. What kind of a brother am I? How could I have let Jade steal her heart and then betray her, killing her? She always looked up to me. Same with Amos. What kind of an ally am I? I'm such a horrible person; I don't deserve to live.

People say that good defeats evil in the end. In that case, I'm not going to win.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Diara... How do you feel about her attitude? Will Elysia's sacrifice help or hurt her emotionally later on?**

 **2\. Naia... So Naia and Digit end up in an alliance. Thoughts?**

 **3\. Creek... The Careers are different in this universe than in most SYOTs. How? Do you like or dislike it? Why?**

 **4\. Chase... How does his reaction compare to Diara's? How will this affect his future?**

 **5\. Predictions"**

 **Eulogies:**

 **24th. Pixel** _ **Lockdell, District Three Female**_

 **Initially, I was hesitant to accept her because of her backstory, but I did it anyway because I wanted to play off of the fact that she grew up in a Loyalist background. Sadly, it never ended up working well since I couldn't fit her into the plot. As much as some of you hate her backstory, you have to admit hat her personality was solid and would've been a great character if I had made enough room for her.**

 **23rd. _Button Davenport, District Eight Female_**

 **Ah, our little oddball. Button was an amazing character, but she presented a challenge for me to write. I couldn't decide whether to keep or kill her for a while, but there came a point where I realized that the way I was doing her just wasn't working out. I'm pretty sure that her eccentric character would've been a gem in a more experienced author, but at this point in time, I'm not good enough.**

 **22nd. _Zash Kamzoil, District Eight Male_**

 **Zash and Elysia were the hardest for me to kill. His Non-reaping chapter was so much fun to write, and I really didn't want to kill him. However, since this story was pre-planned to fit the trilogy, I couldn't squeeze him in. Believe me; if it weren't for the overarching plot, Zash may have won. I'll really miss him.**

 **21st. _Senwe Barric, District Nine Male_**

 **Senwe was also a challenge to write. He had an extremely layered character, and I had troule expressing that, especially when I hd 23 other tributes vying for my attention. In the end, he wasn't going anywhere, so I had to eliminate him.**

 **20th. Elysia** _ **Veton, District Five Female**_

 **NOTE: She's in 20th Place, because Amos, Jessamine, and Zander bled for a while before dying while Elysia died immediately, cause her to actually die before the next three. Originally, I wasn't the hugest fan of her suicidal attitude, but slowly, I began to appreciate her determination and resilience. I wish I could've kept her around just to see more of her, but her plot of finding meaning in life screamed sacrifice, which made her perfect for the bloodbath. I didn't help that I hadn't heard from her submitter in forever.**

 **19th. _Aleczander Ford, District Six Male_**

 **Zander was the only tributes designed to die from the very beginning. This was before RedRoses had an account, so she submitted two tributes by review under different names. I thought it was two separate people, so I accepted both. Later, after I found out, it made sens to kill one of hers since she was one more tribute in than everyone else. All in all, he was a nice kid, but decent people don't win the Games...**

 **17th and 18th. _Amos Breckenridge and Jessamine Hale, District Twelve Male and Female_**

 **In theory, I think that Jessamine died after Amos because her body could last longer from more nutrition, but in my mind, they died together. I liked both of them but realistically, they didn't have much of a chance. Besides, both of their submitters have disappeared.**

 **That's all for today! See you Thursday or Friday!**

 **~Joseph**


	24. The Games, Day 2

**A/N Sorry for the longer wait! It's been a full week since my last update; I'll try to update sooner, but my goal is a minimum of one chapter per week.**

 **IMPORTANT NEWS: In two weeks, I will be going to Taiwan. I'll try to update there, but I may not be able to. Please understand that I'll be busy for about three weeks before having much free time at all; I'll be returning the third week of July.**

 **Also, I've recently discovered this app called amino. Well, it's actually a huge series of apps. It's a social networking app for fandoms and fans of other stuff. Currently, they have one for Fanfic and one for Books, and a Hunger Games one is in development. Is anyone interested? Would anyone get it just to chat?**

 _ **Magnolia Beaux, 17, District Eleven Female**_

The birds begin to pick up a tune as the sun begins to rise. I lean back against the tree trunk. We were pretty lucky to find some rocky higher ground; though it's not comfortable, it's better than the mud and water. I look over at Hirst, sleeping like a rock—soundly and silently. We didn't get this much sleep back in Eleven. He's kind of a confusing person, and I don't really know what to think about him. Sure, he's really nice, but that doesn't mean much in a deathmatch. I almost think that he's being nice for his own survival, but then again, I can't imagine him doing that. I've seen him a few times at home around Grover, but at home, he doesn't speak to me. He waves but never says a word. Maybe he's being nice to me to play the game. It's more than likely. However, part of me wants to believe him. Maybe he didn't talk to me because he was shy. I want to believe him, but it's hard.

I grab our backpack, take out a small box of crackers, and eat one. Plants abound in this arena; it's almost as if it were made for us. We passed by a clump of wild blueberries yesterday, and we have two boxes of the luscious fruit. Based on the climate, there probably are cranberries in here too, though we haven't seen any.

I put the box back into the backpack as Hirst begins to stir. He opens his eyes.

"Hey," I say, "Good morning."

"Hey," he says, sitting up and stretching. He groans as he picks himself up off the rocky ground. "Not the softest mattress, huh?"

"Yep. Not the hardest either," I say.

He feels his back. "I beg to differ." He smiles.

I shrug. "Hey, we're alive. That's something to be thankful for."

"Woah, woah. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad to be alive, but this," he says, pointing to the rocks, "Could use a little bit of improvement."

I smile. "You should get something to eat."

"Sure. Then we'll move, I guess. We'll pretend we know what we're doing."

I point up at the sky. The audience probably heard that.

"You heard nothing," he says, facing the sky. He places a finger to his lips and shushes. "It'll be our little secret."

I can't help but laugh. He tosses his cracker into his mouth and slings the backpack onto his shoulder. "I guess we go now."

He looks around before walking in a random direction. I shrug and follow. It can't hurt to explore this place a bit more, can it?

"Hey, look at this," Hirst says, up ahead.

I try to hurry. "What?"

"Look."

We've come upon a large, elevated sheet of rock, about ten feet in diameter, and there's a pile of backpacks. The only group that could manage this is…

There're footsteps behind us, and when I turn around, I see the boy from Seven, hand gripping an ax. Something tells me that he could cut down both of us. There's a moment of silence.

"Look," Hirst says, putting his hands up, "We were just passing through. We-"

"Don't worry about it," the boy replies, twirling the ax, a calm look on his face. He doesn't seem like the kind to go out and kill people. "You should move on. My partner isn't too keen on letting people get away."

"Okay, sure," Hirst says, backing off, slightly puzzled. I follow his lead, and once we're far out enough, we break into a run. If what the guy said was true, we're treading on dangerous ground. If we get caught by the girl from Seven, things are going to go wrong.

After a while, we slow to a walk.

"That's far enough, right?" he says.

I shrug. "Could be."

"What's our plan now."

"Umm… avoid others and stay alive?"

"Sounds like a plan."

He smiles, and I can't help but smile too. His smile is so… genuine. Maybe he's honest.

 _ **Arden Caville, 18, District Seven Female**_

I trudge back to camp, my arms full of cattails. We have them back in Seven, so I was quite pleased to find a clump of them. It's possibly the best edible plant in this entire arena. Pretty much the entire plant screams protein.

I step onto the raised rock where we set up camp, and I see that Angus has already returned, packing wild nuts into containers and bags. I drop my harvest on a large rock and sit down on a log.

"You got lucky?" I ask, noting the large number of nuts. These are also in high demand during the Games.

He shrugs. "It seems like the Gamemakers don't want us to worry about starving this year," he says, "Fighting is a lot more interesting to watch anyway."

"Sounds good to me," I say, "I'd rather get cut down than starve." It's true. Starvation is a slow and torturous process, a much harsher death than dying in battle. At least, that's if they don't torture you, but this year's bunch doesn't seem to have any psychos. We should be good.

Angus finishes packing and places it in a backpack before standing up and stretching. Something about the footsteps made by mud catches his attention.

"What?" I ask. I'm not stupid, but I'm completely lost here.

He looks at me sideways. "You didn't… walk backward here, did you?"

"Huh?"

"The footstep patterns here. Two people walked backward about halfway through before turning around and running," he says, pointing at the evidence.

I take a closer look. Huh. It's true. But who could it be?

"Hey Alder," I call. He was on watch. "Where did these footsteps come from?"

"Which ones," he says, walking over.

"Someone went through here," Angus says, "Walking backward."

Alder's face tenses up for a brief moment. "Well, I got bored."

"Two pairs of footsteps?" I press, "If that's so, then why'd you turn around halfway and run?"

"I… uhh…" He struggles for words.

"C'mon," I say, hands on hips, "Spill the beans. Tell us."

He caves. "Fine. The Elevens went through."

"And you let them go?" I say.

"Well, yeah. They were harmless and didn't want any trouble."

"Seems reasonable," Angus says, "They didn't provoke us. We don't have a reason to fight."

"Seriously," I say. "Have you gone crazy? Alder, you have siblings back home. Don't tell me you don't want to go home. And Angus. What was her name? Miracle? You have to kill everyone else to go back." I stomp my foot on the hard stone. "Wake up! Where have you been? We're in a deathmatch! You can't be nice in here."

Before any of the two can reply, Star, breathing rapidly and panting, interrupts us. "We… have to… run," she says between gasps for breath, "Corrosive flow."

Acid flow. Once, acids from Eight stored in a warehouse in our forest managed to escape, corroding trees, grass, and everything. If this is the same thing, I don't want to be here.

Angus is the first to react, grabbing some supplies and taking off in the opposite direction from where Star came running in. I sling a bag on my back and follow, trying to run in this mud, with Alder and Star behind me. My feet can't seem to get a solid footing, but I know that right now, that's only a minor inconvenience. There's a huge "crack" sound behind us, and when I look back, I see a huge tree, beginning to tip. I veer left, narrowly avoiding death as the tree falls into the water, splattering me with dirt and mud. This is only the first one, as huge clumps of trees fall, filling the air with thumps and crashes. When I look back, I can see the evil, neon green liquid far behind us, mowing down rows of tree and life.

Beads of sweat flow down the side of my forehead. Run. Run. If that liquid gets anywhere on me, it'll eat me alive. The very thought strengthens my resolution to run. All of a sudden, my ears clear. The crashing of trees stops, and in its wake is eerie silence. We regroup and gather together, Angus passes out water bottles. At this rate, we'll be out soon. We'll have to boil more.

It hits me as soon as I catch my breath. "Now who's fault was that?" I say, "The Gamemakers weren't happy with us. Why?"

It's only a rhetorical question and they know it. The Capitol isn't too happy about Alder sparing the Elevens.

"You see?" I say, "You can't be nice in here. I'll say it right now. I'm killing the next person we run into."

As I continue walking, I feel their eyes on me. I whirl around and stare back at them.

"Don't you dare try to stop me."

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female**_

I speed through the swamp as fast as I can. I quickly discovered that the mud makes it hard to walk, so you have to take the next step before the first one is complete. I've got the hang of it now, though. I stop and look behind me. The green liquid seems to be completely gone now, and I stop and catch my breath, my hands on my knees. I look down at my jacket where the corrosive liquid ate a hole, and I dip the affected areas in the water, which I hope dilutes it to make it harmless. I check my backpack, and it seems to be mostly fine. With one last big breath, I move on through the swamp.

I've been thinking about my strategy for a while, and I've come to a conclusion. I can't just hide and hope to make it far. I need to be more offensive. Every year, the hiders are the least popular. Sure, it might get you by for a while, but it can only bring you so far. When you become a boring tribute that's just taking up screen time, you're out. I need to be offensive as well as defensive. But what's a younger girl from a weak district supposed to do?

My foot hits something, and I almost yelp. If I remember correctly, there are alligators in swamps. With no weapon, I'm easy prey. I quickly take a few steps back, quickly grabbing a branch as I lose my balance. I pull myself up and watch the water. Please, no alligator. Please, no alligator. There's movement.

A piece of rotting wood floats to the surface.

I bend over, trying to contain my laughter and relief. I almost threw a fit over dead, rotting wood! Ha! How embarrassing. I pull myself together and continue moving on.

Soon, I see the tip of a thatched roof, outlined by the late afternoon sun. A building? In a place like this? I can only hope. I try to walk faster, and soon, I find myself in front of a small house, built on top of stilts. I've reached a village.

The house is falling apart. Much of the thatching has rotted off the roof and fallen onto the floor, and I can see where the door used to be. The stairs are gone. Should I go in? I think I'll go in.

I crawl up onto the platform and brush myself off before taking light steps into the house. There are two rooms, and the wall separating them has pretty much fallen down. Only the one remaining corner lets me know there used to be a wall. A collapsed table sits in the center of the first room, and in the second, I see an old bed, the flimsy blanket eaten away by decay. A cupboard is nestled in the corner of the room; one of the two doors has swung open. Maybe there's something in it. When I push away the other door, and I find a rusty, metal box labeled "matches." I force it open, and sure enough, six, good matches sit inside. I close the box again and stuff it in my backpack. In the other room, I find a bottle with the word "kerosene" scribbled on it.

It hits me. Not literally, of course.

I've passed supply piles of other tributes already, especially the piles of the trained ones. They always have the advantage in the Games because their training gives them the edge that allows them to take all of the good supplies. But if I set it on fire…

The playing field would be a bit more level. I've got a plan now.

 _ **Digit Fuse, 18, District Three Male**_

It's late in the afternoon, and we're sitting beside a fire. Though the matches got wet yesterday, Naia was pretty good with getting them dry, and we're now cooking a fish she caught by putting it on a cut-open can over the fire. I guess saving her was a good idea. I don't know why I initially decided to save her. Really, our pact was only a non-aggression one, and I had no obligation to help her. Besides, it was dangerous too. Whatever the reason, I'm glad I did. These extra supplies will help, and I'm glad to have someone else along for the ride.

She takes the fish off the fire, and while she packs it for later, I stamp out the fire and pour water on it. There's no use letting anyone know that we've been here.

There's a rustle in the leaves behind me. Beady eyes stare back at me.

"Hey, Umm, Naia?" I say.

"Yeah? I'm pretty much done," she says, zipping up her bag.

"I think… we should run."

"Huh?"

When she turns, a snake leaps out of the brush. I take a jump backward, taking a good look at in. The olive-green scales on his body reflect the light, and I get a feeling that snakes usually aren't so big.

Naia is gone in a flash, and I run after her. We don't have to deal with snakes in the urban mess of District Three, but I know that they have them in natural District Four. I look back, and I see that they're chasing us through the water; they can most definitely swim.

Naia looks back, and I see the expression on her face. Something's wrong. Really wrong. "Okay, we'll have to climb a tree."

"What?"

"I'll explain later," she says, "No time. The tree up there. That low branch. C'mon."

She leaps up and climbs up easily as if she's used to it. I look up at the tree. I don't think I've ever climbed one in my life. I look back and see the snake's head above the water. Nope, I've gotta climb this. I grab the branch and pull myself up onto the tree. Naia's higher up; I do my best to follow. One step, then another. Don't look down.

There's a snap, and Naia screeches as her bag falls off her shoulders and tumbles down, getting hooked on the stub of a former branch, a few feet above the water. She starts coming back down.

"Don't," I say, "It's not worth it."

"But almost everything's in there. The food is." She drops a few more branches. I've gotta follow her. I can't let her die to the snakes. I find my knife and climb down after her.

She kneels on a branch and tries to reach the backpack, but it's barely out of reach. She leans forward.

"NO!"

She loses her balance, and I grab her arm. I hold on to her as she picks the bag off of the stub help her regain her balance.

"Whew," she says, "Thanks."

I shrug, though I'm scared out of my wits. "Wh- What were these snakes," I say. I'm not sure I want to know.

"They looked like cottonmouths," she said, "But bigger. At home, we have a lot of people who've lost limbs because of the poison. I can only imagine what the mutt form is like."

I take a deep breath. That was too close. These mutt attacks are coming surprisingly early; Gamemakers usually wait a few days for things to go stagnant before trying to spice things up. This can only mean one thing: The Gamemakers don't like us much. And if we're trying to beat the Gamemakers at their own Game, we've got hard days ahead of us.

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Magnolia… Even more Hirstolia! Any new opinions? Old opinions? Opinions in general? How do you feel about the interaction?**

 **2\. Arden… What do you think of her attitude? Is it good? How will it influence her final placing?**

 **3\. Sonic… Thoughts on her plan? Will it work?**

 **4\. Digit… How do you like the alliance? Will it hold?**

 **5\. Who do you think will die next? Predictions for a final eight?**


	25. The Games, Day 3

**A/N Hello! Here's day three! I should be able to get two more chapters up before I leave for Taiwan, but we'll see.**

 **Also, the website (www. ecclesiastesverse. weebly. com) was updated again with a few new characters, including some that have yet to appear in the story. Tell me what you think!**

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female**_

 _My brother Alex waves as the train doors close, preparing to leave District One. I wave back. Next time we meet will either be after I win or beyond the grave. The escort guides me and Imperial into the dining car, sits us down, and offers us fruit. I politely decline, but Imperial takes a clump of grapes. The escort immediately begins babbling about_ her _job and_ her _friends and_ her _benefits and_ her _popularity she'll get if one of us wins. Sure, it's fine and dandy, but it seems a bit more… selfish than the way I've always imagined the people of the Capitol._

Someone taps me on the shoulder. "Hey, wake up."

"Huh?" I sit up and open my eyes. It's still dark, but in the firelight I see Creek.

"It's your watch," he says.

"Okay. You can sleep now."

He lies down, careful to avoid hurting his wounded shoulder even more. He's a nice guy, and I love his ideas. However, he seems too nice. He's never killed before, and I don't know if he'd do it if he had to. I don't like killing either, but at least I'll do it out of duty. I can't say the same for him.

I unzip my backpack and fish around for the pack of mint gum. It was my first sponsor gift, and to everyone, it seems pointless. I get it, though. Odelia's telling me to keep that fun-loving attitude. Of course, extremely serious killing machines are also appealing to the Capitol audience, but the more positive angle comes a lot more naturally to me. I take a piece and begin to chew. They say that mint is good for your concentration. I hope it's true.

I look up at the early-morning sky, my mind wandering back to the dream. It's weird; usually, my dreams are fantasies, but it was just a memory. My face scrunches up as I remember my escort, who never said anything if it wasn't for herself. It was… shocking, really. I expected Capitolites to be nicer and generous, not selfish and superficial. Maybe it was just her. Really, Aria, that was treasonous. My parents would be ashamed of me if they knew I had those thoughts,

Imperial rolls over, and I look at him. I'm not completely sure what to think about him. He's so… not him. He's not the quiet, polite guy he used to be, but he's all I have left of home. Home.

Imperial's awake now, and he stretches and gets up. He comes over and sits beside me.

"You miss home?" he says.

"Yeah," I say, "A lot."

"Me too," he says.

There's a pause as the sun's bright light begins to flood the sky.

"Do you think it happened?" he says.

"What happened?"

"You know. Agau and the mall. My dad was supposed to talk to yours about opening the new store in the new wing of your mall."

"It probably passed," I say. "My dad's a nice guy. I don't think he would refuse. Why do you ask?"

He chuckles. "I just needed an excuse to talk about home. I miss my family so much."

"Me too. You have… two siblings, right?" I say.

"Yeah, and a nephew. He's the cutest thing." He stares wistfully at the sky. "You have three, right?"

"Yep," I say. I can't help but smile thinking about them. "I wish I was there with them."

He nods, completely understanding. Maybe some of his old self is still in there, masked by the pressure of the Games.

The sun is fully up now.

"C'mon," he says, "We should wake the others."

 _ **Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female**_

I open my eyes.

I feel asleep.

On a wide-open rock.

Shoot. What kind of an idiot falls asleep while she's out in the open? I grab my stuff and start moving. If Elysia was still alive, then we could take turns keeping watch. But she's dead. And I'm winning for her.

I hear a soft beeping, and when I turn around, I see a silver parachute, floating down. A sponsor gift? I must be doing better than I thought I did. I run over and catch the parachute, screwing open the lid.

There are only two matches. Two matches? What do I do with two matches? I have a box of matches in my backpack; I don't need more. I pick one up. It seems pretty average; there's nothing special about it. I see these all the time at ho-

At home. These are matches from District Nine. But still, what good is it? I can only make two fires…

Oh… I think I'm getting it now. At home, two lit torches during the day mean to watch out for wild predators that have somehow seemed to enter the district. It means watch out, be on your guard. Rusk is telling me to be fully alert. I give him a thumbs up to let him know I got his message, but what am I looking out for? I'm not sure I want to know.

I begin to move into a thicker section of the swamp, slashing my way through with my scythe. The trees are getting bigger, and shrubs and plants almost completely carpet the water. I'm not likely to run into anyone here.

I hear a snarl from the thicket in front of me. I had forgotten that there are more mutts in thickets. I slowly back off as two yellow eyes appear in the underbrush. A black, feline head appears. A panther, I think. That's one mutt I don't want to deal with, so I turn heel and run.

I hear splashing behind me. It's coming after me, but I know it's not trying that hard. I must not be trying to kill me, then. But what? Drive me somewhere?

I spot another pair of yellow eyes, deep in the woods to my far left. I swerve to the right. They might not be trying to kill me, but the moment I stop playing along, I'm dead. I hear more mutts behind me, joining the first two. I must keep going. I can't lose.

I crash through a stand of small trees and find myself face to face with the girl from Seven, her allies not far behind her. I begin to back off. I can't take all four of them.

She lunges at me. "Oh no, you don't," she says, "You're staying here."

I dodge her swing and ram her in the stomach, knocking her into the water. I hear splashing behind me. Of course, it's her district partner. I stumble to my feet and try to run, but my foot catches on some underwater root. I guess the Gamemakers don't want me going anywhere.

Now it's two against one. I stand back, waiting for her to make the first move. She and her partner circle me, keeping me from running. She lashes at me. I move to the side and slash back, but she drops to the water, ducking under it. I see her partner striking at me out of the corner of my eye, and I lurch forward. The girl pulls me down into the water; her ax is gone now. She holds down my hand with the scythe, and she tries to pry it from my grasp. I knee her and force her off of me before barreling into the guy's legs, tripping him into the mud. Before I can pull myself up, fire rips through my lower chest. I scream. The girl yanks her ax out of me. I try to stand, but I can't. It hurts. She shoves me, and I'm powerless to do anything as I fall into the murky water. The acidic water burns the wound, and I can't hold back my screams. I taste blood in my mouth, and I know what's really happening.

I'm dying.

I always knew that this could happen, but the shock of it all is beginning to numb everything.

The world is blurring. It doesn't hurt as much anymore.

I'm sorry, Elysia. Your sacrifice was Meaningless.

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male**_

Arden slams her ax into the girl from Nine before yanking it out and shoving the girl into the water. She breathes heavily, trying to catch her breath. Alder is trying to dry himself off, a serious expression on his face. I don't why I just sat here and watched. I don't think I was needed; was I? I could've stepped in. Was it because I was afraid of killing? Was I a coward? Should I have stepped in?

A small voice in my head reminds me of what my dad liked to say. "It isn't about how strong or great or attractive you are. It's about what you believe in and what you do about it."

I whisper a silent thank-you to my dad. I know that unnecessary killing is wrong, and I'm not going to make the Games worse than they already are. If I win, it's going to be on my terms.

Arden washes her hands and her ax of the dead girl's blood, and she flinches when she washes off the chunks of flesh stuck to the ax. I can tell that deep down, she doesn't enjoy the killing any more than I do. We're all in the same position, really. The only thing that sets us apart is how we deal with it.

"We… should move," Arden says. She sounds nauseous. "Let them take her body away."

"Are you okay?" Star asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's … Let's just go."

We grab our bags and begin to move, Arden at the head, me in the rear. As we leave, I turn around as the hovercraft appears. The claw comes down and scoops up the girl's dead body, hauling it into the hovercraft. I look away.

We walk around for the rest of the day, following Arden. We all know that we're going nowhere, but I don't complain. She needs some time to process everything, so none of us steps in. As nightfall comes, I break the silence.

"We need to settle down," I say, "There's no use wandering around in the dark."

Arden looks back, sighs, and shrugs. She looks tired. It's agreed and we begin to unpack on an island amidst the water, covered in ferns and other plants.

The anthem plays. Arden looks away.

"I'll take first watch," I offer. No one argues. It's fine; after today, all of us need some time to cope and react. Of course, Arden killed the girl from Three in the bloodbath, but that was partially out of self-defense. I can't say the same about this. The girl was trying to run.

I start a fire and offer some food. Alder takes a strip of jerky, and they all lie down to sleep. I sit beside the fire. I'm pretty tired myself. My legs are sore from walking all day, and I'm just as worn as everybody else. But I choose to keep watch. Let everyone else get some rest first. Why?

As my dad would say, this is the role of a leader.

 _ **Razer Dian, 32, District Three Mentor**_

I'm in the mentors room right now. Beside me is Pike Marilin, Naia's mentor. After the snake attack yesterday, we've been on the edges of our seats, but it's been quiet today. Right now, Digit and Naia are sitting around a fire, eating a bit of their food. Maybe, if the Gamemakers are feeling nice, they won't have to deal with any mutts tonight. I stand up and rub my eyes, which are tired from watching the screen. I stretch and beckon to an Avox, who comes over. Believe me, the practice of making Avoxes is disgusting, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do something about it. I have to choose my battles, and this is not one worth fighting.

"A cup of hot chocolate," I say, "Cut down on the sugar; blend walnuts into it."

She nods and leaves to get my drink.

I sit back down as Pike curses. My full attention is immediately drawn to the screen. A pack of fish-like creatures, a few feet long, are closing in on them, hiding under the cover of darkness. They look more like huge lizards, now that I think about it, with flippers and fish heads. Their mouths are filled with razor-sharp teeth. They only have a few minutes before they're both dead. We have to warn them. Think, think, think.

"How much money do we have?" Pike says, his face lighting up.

"Umm… couple thousand."

"Whew." He navigates the sponsorship page and taps on "One bowl of shark-fin soup."

Within seconds, a capsule with a bowl of soup is floating down. C'mon Naia. This is up to you.

Digit runs to get the parachute and screws it open. " _Smells fishy,"_ he says on screen.

Naia takes a whiff and dips her finger into it. " _Tastes like shark-fin soup."_

" _Isn't that kind of pointless?"_ Digit asks. I want to slam my head on the table.

" _Sharks…"_ Naia says. Come one, come on, come on. " _Sharks. Quick, grab a weapon!"_

Digit runs for his knives and picks it up as the first creature attacks, jumping out of the water. Digit stabs it with his long dagger and throws it to the ground. Immediately, the rest of the creatures follow suit.

"Whew," Pike says, "They'll be okay."

"How can you tell?"

"This is just like spearfishing," he says. "Naia's used to it."

I begin to breathe. Naia spears the last one, and the two catch their breath. Naia smiles at a camera.

"Nice one," I say.

"Don't mention it," Pike replies.

I stand up as the Avox returns with my chocolate. I take a sip.

"Can you watch tonight?" I ask. I watched last night.

"Sure. Goodnight."

"Night."

I leave the room and enter one of the bedrooms on the side, placing my cup on the side table. I need to get some sleep; my eyelids are heavy with fatigue. At the rate the Games are going, Digit won't last much longer. I place my hand into my pocket, where it touches a folded piece of paper. I pull it out. It's Digit's goodbye note; he gave it to me before he left for the arena. In my hurry, I forgot to read it. I unfold it and begin to read.

 _Hello,_

 _I'm not exactly used to writing notes to people, but here goes. Thanks for helping me the past few days. I'm not talking about mentoring; I'm talking about the notebook. Knowing that it's real gives me hope that one day, Beetee's plans will come true. We won't always be enslaved by the Capitol. I hope you never give up on it._

 _Tell my mom goodbye for me. I wasn't able to see her before I was taken._

 _Digit_

The notebook. Before, I had always seen it as a relic, but my eyes are opening to the power it has among the people of Three. This is the stuff that gives them hope for the future. If I could decode it, I'd be able to rally up the whole district. I can't give up on it.

But first, I need some sleep.

 **Eulogy:**

 _ **Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female.**_ **Placed 16th**

 **Diara was such an amazing character. I loved her attitude and her worldview, and she was overall fun to write and fun to use. Her strength contrasted well with her inexperience with people, and if this were a standard SYOT, she could've won. Alas, I already had a story planned before the submissions came in, and she just didn't fit. I'm so sorry, pyreplanes.**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Aria… How is she reacting to everything? What are your thought on the Ones this year?**

 **2\. Diara… How much will you miss her? Did this match up with any of your predictions?**

 **3\. Angus… How has this encounter affected the Outer-District Trained Alliance? How will it affect their future? What do you think of Angus?**

 **4\. Razer… This isn't important now, but I promise; it'll appear sometime in the future. Predictions about this?**

 **5\. How would you react to killing someone?**

 **6\. What do you think of the website?**

 **See y'all soon!**

 **~Joseph**


	26. The Games, Day 4

**A/N Yay! A Chapter! Happiness for everyone!**

 **THERE'S A HUNGER GAMES AMINO! YAS!**

 **Anyway, there's now this app called Amino that encompasses 200+ fandoms. It's one huge app that has many different apps built into it, each one for a separate fandom. You choose the ones you're in. There's one specific one for the Hunger Games called Mockingjay Amino, and I'd love it if you joined. I've always wanted to have a way to have live chat with y'all, but before this, I didn't have a way without losing too much privacy. NOW THERE IS! AM I THE ONLY ONE EXCITED?**

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female**_

The Gamemakers must _really_ don't like us. How else can you explain our bad luck? First was the quicksand after the bloodbath. Then we got chased by snakes the next day. And then we got attacked by killer fish-things last night. Who knows, what'll happen today?

Digit is sitting by the fire, eating a shark-fin soup breakfast. I had the other half, so I don't mind. I'm leaning on a nearby tree. There's rustling above me, and my eyes immediately dart to the branches above. A squirrel sits up there, eating a nut. Let me guess, it's the next mutt.

I motion to Digit to be on guard, and he stands up, grabbing his dagger.

"What," he says.

"Careful," I say, "I saw a squirrel up there. With our luck, it's probably the next mutt."

"We should pack up and move out," he says, "I don't want to be cleaning blood off our supplies if they attack."

"Sure. You start packing; I'll guard." I hold my spear, ready to defend.

"Sounds good."

With his dagger in one hand, he begins to place our stuff in the bags. First, the food goes in, and then everything else. He puts down the dagger for a moment to zip up the bag, and then he's up again with the bag on his shoulders and his dagger in his hand.

"Okay, I'm done," he says, "Let's get out of here."

We walk slowly, him walking forward and me walking backward, making sure we're not being followed. This is weird. We've been attacked non-stop, and now it's silent. The squirrel is nowhere to be seen; I could've sworn that it was going to be our next enemy. Is the Capitol trying to make it so that the attacks don't appear intentional? At this point, only an idiot would think that the mutt attacks were completely random. That's probably what the Capitolites think.

"Any movement back there?" Digit asks.

"Nope," I say, "Completely silent."

"This is weird," he says, "I don't see why… Oh s***."

I whip myself around. The Inner-District Trained group is standing right there, not too far in front of us. Creek looks in our direction and alerts the other. So that's why we weren't attacked by mutts.

We were this close to another alliance.

 _ **Androcles Diorite, 17, District Two Male**_

"Hey!" Creek calls, pointing, "Naia and that other guy are over there!"

I squint, and I see two figures beginning to run. Welp, here we go. I immediately sprint after the two figures, and I can tell by the splashing behind me that everyone else isn't far behind. Aria soon surpasses my pace and runs ahead of all of us. She was always built for speed.

We follow them through the swamp, twisting and turning to follow them. Slowly, we begin to gain on them. They didn't have the stamina training that we went through. The trees begin to become sparser the further we go, and up ahead, I see an open wetland. Great. No more trees to get in the way.

"Hey!" Creek calls far behind, "Stop! Don't go any further."

Something tells me that he knows what he's talking about, so I slow to a stop beside Aria and wait for everyone else to catch up. I grab the nearest ranged weapon — a knife — and throw it at them. It hits the guy in the leg. Unless he's extremely unlucky, it shouldn't kill him, but it should weaken them severely. The others are here within seconds, with the exception of Creek. Huh, he hasn't been trained that much either, has he.

"Don't go into the open areas," he says as he arrives, panting and out of breath. He stops to catch his breath, and we wait for an explanation.

"You better have a darn good explanation," I say. "We could've got them."

"I know," he says, "Unless we get caught."

"Huh?"

"The water there is a little deeper. Alligators thrive in there. We have these areas back at home. Everyone avoids them because no one wants to find himself being chewed to pieces."

"Sounds reasonable," Aemilia says. I have to agree; it is reasonable.

"Besides," Creek says, a knowing look on his face, "Naia and her ally are rebels. There's no way they're getting out of here."

Now that everyone in Panem knows, they're definitely dying in this arena.

 _ **Chase Arclight, 16, District Five Male**_

I've been wandering around pointlessly for the past few days and all day today, moving further and further out. To be honest, this part of the arena looks like less work was put into it. I must be getting near the edge. I grab a handful of gravel and begin to chuck a piece forward every so often, just to make sure I don't run into the forcefield.

It's getting later in the day now, and the sun is beginning to set. I continue to trek. I'm not exactly sure why I'm still walking. I'm not even exactly sure why I'm still here.

- _Bzaap-_

The piece of gravel comes flying back at me. I stop and throw a few more, just to establish exactly where the forcefield is. Hey, this is actually kind of fun. It lights up the place too. My life is sad.

The Capitol anthem plays, and I'm bracing myself when I realize that no one died today. Gamemakers don't mind if one day goes by without a death, but after two days, they begin to act. Let's see… who's left? I know that 8 left us on the first day, and one died yesterday. That makes fifteen of us left. Nine of the others are in one of the two trained alliance. Huh. I just realized how unfair the Games are now. It's always those two huge alliances dominating the field unless they choose not to ally. Just my bad luck that I had to get Reaped in a year with those two alliances.

Other than those nine, there are six others, including me. So… Both Elevens are still alive, as are the girl from Four and her ally. And.. who else? I rack my memory, but I can't remember. Either way, once it gets boring, the Gamemakers are probably coming after me. I'm willing to bet that I'm the boring-est tribute left. That is, unless you think that wandering aimlessly is interesting. In that case, get a life. Or try and keep me alive. What am I even thinking?

At this point, I'm just dead weight. I'm doing absolutely nothing for anyone, and I can't last much longer. I should just kill myself. At least I'd be doing a favor for everyone else.

I strike up a fire. Killing myself doesn't seem that bad of an idea, come to think of it. It's infinitely better than waiting for the Gamemakers to kill me. Besides, I deserve it. I wasn't able to save my own sister, even though I saw all the warning signs. I sat by and did nothing. Such a great brother. And then Amos. I used to lie to myself and tell myself that I was a selfless person, but the thought of helping him with Jessamine didn't cross my head until they were dead. Such a great person. I've contributed nothing to this world; I'm just dead weight. Everyone would be better off if I killed myself. Sure, my dad, Ken, and Aquitty would be heartbroken, but it won't be soon until they realize that it was for the best. I don't earn my keep at home anyway; my wages aren't good enough to completely cover my costs.

I throw my backpack to the side before unzipping my jacket, taking off my shoes and submerging myself in water. It helps conduct electricity. I take off my jacket too. I toss one more pebble to confirm the location of the forcefield, and I take a deep breath. I know that the electricity is strong enough to kill me instantly; it shouldn't hurt. It'll just… be like a really bad shock. A really short one, to be exact, because I won't be feeling anything after a moment.

My final thoughts. Sorry dad. I hope you understand. Ken and Aquitty, I hope we meet again someday. Maybe I won't be a burden then. I step up, right in front of the invisible, electric wall. Here goes nothing. I spread out my arms, close my eyes, and throw myself forward.

A sharp zap is the last thing I hear.

 _ **Alva Bronte, 53, District Five Mentor**_

I watch as Chase gets closer to the forcefield, and I release my breath as he picks up some gravel and begins to throw it ahead of him. It's the worst when a tribute dies by unintentionally walking into the forcefield. It's even worse when they don't die immediately, instead suffering because their clothing provided too much resistance. Chase should be good for now, though he desperately needs to move closer to everyone else. He's so far from everyone else; what if the Gamemakers go after him? I know — he's not even my tribute — but he's from my district. That's enough reason for me, especially since Raydon abandoned him. Chase shouldn't have to go through the Games with this extra disadvantage. Besides, Elysia made me promise to give her meager amount of sponsor money to him. I can't abandon him.

I do understand Raydon, though. I was originally his mentor, and I know his history of rejection. It only makes sense that rejecting others comes naturally to him.

Chase has been sitting at his fire for a long time now, staring into the flames. I can only guess at what he's thinking. Maybe he's thinking about home. Does he have anything to go back to? I hope so.

He gets up and throws all his supplies away. Something is wrong; I know it. He soaks himself and water. Why-

Oh. No. No. He can't-

I furiously pick the first item from the sponsor list that I can afford — A pack of dried fruit. Maybe the beeping from the parachute will catch his attention and keep him going. My button gets jammed. Shoot. He's beginning to walk towards the forcefield. I type in the backup code, designed to bypass problems like this. Am I too late? I don't have time to stop and think about it. I hit "enter," and the gift is released in seconds.

Twenty feet before the parachute hits the ground, Chase throws himself into the forcefield, electrocuting himself. I was too late. My attempts to save him were Meaningless. His corpse is thrown backward, and the silver parachute lands beside his head.

I stand up and back away from the monitor, shaking. I can hear Nigella from the District Two station laughing at me. No, no; this can't have happened. I run from the mentor's room and flee the entire building, retreating into the nearby park. It's dark out here, and I cower at the base of a tree. I need some time alone.

In all my years of mentoring, I've never seen that happen before. That just doesn't happen. Suicides are extremely rare, and no one's ever done it the way he did.

Now I've got no responsibilities left here. The pressure keeping me awake is now gone, and I feel my eyelids drooping. I'm going to fall asleep at the base of a tree in the Capitol, and I don't care.

Sleep… My escape…

I open my eyes, and I see the purple ceiling. I'm… back in the District Five quarters, in my own room. I feel the covers; this is my bed. I sit up. How?

The door opens, and Raydon pokes his head in.

"You alright?" he asks, coming in, "I heard that you ran out, and when I found you in the park, I was worried."

"Y- Yeah," I say, "I'm fine."

He sits down on a chair, his elbows on his knees. He stares into nowhere, thinking.

"Well," he says, breaking the silence. Moments like this remind me that inside, he's just another broken person, just like the sad, aloof boy I first met almost twenty years ago. "What am I supposed to do?" he says, "What are we supposed to do?"

"The only thing we can do," I say, sighing. There really is no other option. "Pick up our broken pieces and move on."

 **Eulogy:**

 _ **Chase Arclight, 16, District Five Male.**_ **Placed 15th. Submitted by WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper.**

 **Chase was awesome. His backstory, while not happy, juggled the realistic and the tragic in a way that made it believable. His personality was far more detailed than his backstory, which is something I appreciate. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't bad. He was just shut-off, and that habit of locking his emotions away eventually got to him. I'm sorry, Wizard (If you're even reading anymore).**

—

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Welp, Naia and Digit are on the run again, but now Digit's been injured. How do you think it will play out? Thoughts on the Inner-District Alliance compared to the Careers we know and love?**

 **2\. Chase is gone. How do you feel about his suicide? Will you miss him? What did you think about Alva and her relationship with Raydon?**

 **3\. Have you noticed all my not-so-subtle references to the title?**

 **4 (Optional). Will you get Amino? Just a clarification; when you search up "Amino," you'll probably find a huge number of specific Aminos. You don't want that. You want the one with a big "A" on it. If you do get it, search for me (Josephm611) and shoot me a message. :)**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

 **See you… hopefully Wednesday or Thursday!**

 **~Joseph**


	27. The Games, Day 5

**A/N Hooray for an early chapter! If I can get a chapter out every day, I'll be able to finish the story before I leave for Taiwan. Unfortunately, that isn't happening. So, I'll try to get a few more chapters out before I leave, but you guys might have to wait a few weeks… I'll do my best to update while I'm there. That might be hard because I may not have WiFi.  
**

 **ALSO, here's a note to Andrea, the guest reviewer. Thank you so much for reading! I just want to tell you that everything has been planned out already, though I won't tell you what'll happen. You do need to keep in mind that the Careers aren't the strongest this year; they're matched by the 7 & 10 alliance, which is composed of tributes just as trained and just as strong. Thanks for your suggestions. You'll see what happens  
**

 **This chapter has only three POVs. It was enough to surpass 2000 words, which is my goal for every chapter. Also, I didn't have much else to say, so yeah.**

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female  
**_

The sun isn't even fully up, but I'm awake, bright (dark?) and early. I find it best to travel under the cover of low light; makes my job easier for me.

It's Day Five. By the end of today, I will have been in here five days. It already feels like I've been here for forever, and I probably look like it too. My hair is now dirty and tangled, and dirt is caked in my fingernails. There are a few rips in my clothing, but at least my boots are okay. If my boots broke, I'd be doomed in this watery arena.

Still, most of my competition is still alive. As of the announcement last night, both trained groups are intact, as well as the alliance made of the girl from Four and the boy from Three . The Elevens are still here too, as is the guy from Five. One of them died after the recap, but I have no way of knowing until tonight. I don't have time to play guessing games.

Right now, my theory is that the Gamemakers are subtly moving everyone closer together. I hadn't seen the Inner Alliance's camp in a while; last night, I found their new location, just a little while down from here. The Outer Alliance is on the other side of my base; it takes about five minutes to get to them. I'm quiet and unobtrusive, though, so neither group knows that I'm here. I don't think I've run into anyone since the very beginning.

I've spent the past day or so collecting supplies, namely kerosene. Under a fallen log, I've collected fifteen one-quart bottles of kerosene; it's all I could get my hands on. Now, I just need to know when I'll be able to get away with destroying their supplies. I've also found one bottle of liquid rat poison; it'll come in handy. It seems so much more potent than the ones we have at home. Don't look at me that way; I hate killing. But I want to get home more than I hate to kill. I know I can't take directly killing a person; staring straight into their eyes as they die, but I think that if I can kill them second-handedly, I might be able to take it. I hope it kills quickly.

I climb down from the tree I'm on and land in the water, splashing. The goal for today? Continue to watch the alliances and figure out when they're most vulnerable. Then, I can act. I look in all directions before heading for the Inner Alliance camp. I slowly wade in the water, careful to keep my noise to a minimum. As I go, I watch for landmarks to make sure I'm on track. I'd hate to get lost.

Before long, I can see their fire. After a few more minutes, I'm about a hundred feet away from them. If they started talking, I'd be able to hear every word. The girl from One is on watch; she takes the last shift every night. One by one, the others wake up.

They don't go anywhere.

At first, I almost expect them to move on, but they do nothing. After few hours, I begin to get restless. It's probably best for me to start moving back to camp.

As I near my tree, I hear voices. The Elevens. They've set up camp a few hundred feet away. Shoot. They can't know I'm here. I duck behind a tree. Did they see me? I hope now.

After a while, their voices grow more distant. Huh? I peek out, and I see that they've left…

But their camp is still here. Maybe I could poiso-

No! I shake my head at the thought. What kind of a person am I? A person in the Games. Isn't killing what they want us to do? But how can I take someone else's life? What did they ever do to me?

The answer hits me like a car. They exist. That's what they're doing to me. As long as they exist, I'm separated from home. As long as they are living, I'm stuck in this nightmare. Is it okay to kill someone in this case? I hope so. I hate these moral dilemmas; both ways, I feel horrible.

I sigh and grab my bottle of rat poison. Though I know I'll feel bad, that's nothing compared to the grief everyone at home will feel if I die. I've never cared much about the Capitol, but for this moment, my blood boils. You force me to choose between my happy ending and their happy endings. Why can't you just let us all be happy? Why must we be forced to kill others and destroy their hopes and dreams, just so ours — as well as the ones of our families — stay alive? What are we accomplishing anyway? This is all just a Meaningless cycle of death.

Still, I can't let my family and my friends down. I have to win.

My grip on the bottle gets tighter and tighter as I approach their camp; their stuff is piled on a huge tree stump. I try the first thing I see — a red and white water bottle. I twist it open and dump as much of the clear poison in as I can before screwing it back on. I put the bottle to the side as I check the first backpack.

Footsteps. The Elevens are returning. I retreat into the underbrush and return to camp. Immediately, I stuff my supplies into my backpack and start moving out. Shoot. I left my poison with the Elevens. I won't be using it anymore. If I need kerosene, I can come back. But for now, I need to move.

I don't want to see someone else die.

 _ **Magnolia Beaux, 17, District Eleven Female**_

At the first light of dawn, we're moving, sloshing through the water, Hirst leading. I'm not completely sure where we're going, but neither does he. It's just so that we don't seem clueless, sitting around doing nothing.

I spot something in the distance.

"Hey, Hirst," I say, "Are those water lilies?"

"Huh?" he says, squinting, "I think so."

"Let's go," I say, "There probably are cattails around there too."

"Sounds good to me."

We change direction. The water lilies are growing in a small open area without any trees blocking the sunlight. The bright pink blooms shine in the light. I bend down and pick one.

"Hey," he says, "Did you ever go to the pond? Near the edges of Sector Two?"

"Oh yes!" I say, "I was thinking the same thing. Grandma Eden used to send me there for a few roots or leaves every now and then."

"Same," he says, "Good memories."

I look at him, and he's smiling, like he almost always is. At this point, I'm pretty much sure he's genuine. His smiles never seem forced; he's genuinely happy when I'm here. He really is a nice guy. Looking at him now, he isn't bad-looking either.

"Hey," he says, "Why don't we find a place to put our stuff down. Then we can come back and collect some roots. Dinner will taste like home."

Home. "Let's do it."

We walk a bit until we find a huge tree stump to put our stuff on, and then we go back to the lilies. Hirst begins by picking the buds. I hang my jacket on a tree and roll up my sleeves; I'm going to get some roots. I reach into the water and blindly feel around in the slimy mud until my fingers come across something hard. I pull out a good-sized tuber. At this time of the year, they're bland, like potatoes, and they taste great with almost anything. I pull off the extra, stringy roots and snap off the stems. One down.

I keep picking until my arms are full of the tubers, and it almost feels like home, where I can be myself without worrying about anyone. It might as well be that way; Hirst doesn't care about my past.

Hirst comes over with a huge bunch of leaves and buds. "Now I guess we just cook and eat 'em."

"Yeah, I can't wait."

"Here," he says, offering me his jacket, "Dry yourself off."

"Seriously?" I say, my mouth agape. "But the inside will be wet. You need this."

"Oh, C'mon. Just take it," he says, his eyes twinkling, "Besides, if you don't, I'll do it fo-"

"Fine," I say. Generosity. After not getting any of it for so many years, it feels weird letting someone help so much.

We walk back to camp, carrying more food than we need. So much for _Hunger_ Games.

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17, District Eleven Male**_

I quickly get out a tarp we got at the Cornucopia and hang it up between two trees. We put the lilies on it while I get ready to start a fire. Magnolia begins to move our stuff from the tree stump to the tree so I can use the stump for cooking. I get in and help. Beside the stump, I find an unfamiliar metal bottle.

"Hey," I say, "Is this yours?"

"No. What is it?"

I turn it around to read the label. "Rat poison? I don't remember seeing this before."

"It looks so old. It's probably from the arena."

"But it wasn't here earlier," I say, "Did someone else come by here?"

"I don't know… I'm kind of thirsty."

"Okay."

I look around. One bush looks like some just ran right through it. Oh… shoot. Someone must've been here while we were gone. When he or she heard us returning, he must've panicked and left this here. That means…

"MAGNOLIA!" I scream, "Don't drink that water!"

She brings the bottle down from her lips after taking a long drink. No, no, no, No. A second late.

"What is it?" she says, her hands trembling. The bottle drops from her hands.

"It might… be poisoned."

"What?!" she says, not comprehending. I watch the realization set in and she begins to panic. "W- Was that poisoned?"

"I don't know!" I say, "How do you feel?"

"I- I don't know. Right now I'm feeling okay but what if it takes a while to act and-"

"Pull your thoughts together," I say, cutting short her rambling. "Do you feel okay?"

"I don't-"

"Pull yourself together. I've seen you do it before. Take a deep breath."

She does.

"Do you feel okay?" I repeat.

"I- I think so."

"Did the water taste okay?"

"I- I don't remember. I wasn't thinking about it."

"Ah!" she screams, "I'm getting a headache! Hirst, am I going to die?!"

I grab her into a hug, and she hangs on to me. She's beginning to sob. "I don't know," I say, "I don't know anything."

I pat her on the back as she cries into my shoulder. "It's going to-"

"Don't tell me it'll be okay!" she says. "Don't tell me that!"

"Fine, I won't," I say, "Are you feeling better?"

"No," she says, crying, "I feel sick. I want to throw up, but I can't!"

I feel a flow of liquid on my shoulder. I look, and I see blood, flowing out of her nose. "You- You're bleeding!"

"W- What?" she says. I reposition her to get a better look of her face. "No! Don't leave me! Don't let me go!"

"I won't," I say, blinking back tears. "I won't leave you." I look at her face, and I watch helplessly as blood flows out of her nose and spills out of her mouth. I can't do anything. It's almost like when my brother was shot for stealing. Helpless. There's nothing I can do, even though I'd do anything. She vomits over my shoulder, splattering on my jacket with blood.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I should've talked to you before. I should've gotten over myself. I was an idiot to wait." My voice hitches. "Magnolia, I love you."

"I… love you too…" She groans as if talking is hard. "Hirst… I'm… going… to go… soon…"

"Please! No!" I cry, holding her tighter and burying my face in her hair. "Stay with me!"

She starts convulsing in my arms, not responding anymore. I can feel her heartbeat growing erratic, and her breathing is irregular. Darker bruises form under her skin. "Please…"

She stops moving. Her body limply hangs on me. "Magnolia?"

No response.

"Magnolia?" I cry again, shaking her body. "Magnolia!" A cannon rings, boxing my ears. I squeeze her dead body and cry like I've never cried before. It's too late. I'll never get another chance to be with her. Getting to know her has destroyed me.

Love is Meaningless.

 **Eulogy**

 _ **Magnolia Beaux, 17, District Eleven Female.**_ **Placed 14th. Submitted by GryffindorOnFire**

 **I loved Magnolia. The way her backstory affected her relationship with Hirst was amazing to explore, and she died knowing that she was loved. Out of all the characters that have died, her death was the most painful for me to write. Thanks GryffindorOnFire for allowing me to use your amazing tribute.**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. What do you think of Sonic's reaction to killing? How does it compare to what you usually see?**

 **2\. Hirstolia broken. Are you as sad as I am? How much will you miss Magnolia? How will Hirst move on? Will he move on? Thoughts?**

—

 **This was a tough chapter for me. I'll try to get an update up by Thursday; it'll definitely be done by Friday.**

 **Review and let me know what you thought! Your reviews make me so happy. :)**

 **See y'all,**

 **~Joseph**


	28. The Games, Day 6

**A/N The moment when you realize that you've been writing a character's name wrong the whole time… It's actually Alder Black** _ **thorn**_ **, not Black** _ **wood**_ **. I'll try to correct old stuff when I have time.**

 **I'm leaving in three days. O-O. I'll miss y'all so much. If I don't review a chapter, don't hate me.**

 **Also, I notice that a lot of you use the term "Career" in your reviews. I understand why and I don't care if you use it, but keep in mind that the Inner District Alliance is not the same thing as the Career pack. Careers dominate the arena and hunt down everyone else. The Inner District Alliance can't afford to hunt, and they're really just a group of skilled tributes that band together to try to survive.**

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female**_

 _The judge's accusatory glare almost shoots a hole in my chest, and then it's Magnolia standing up there._

 _Guilty._

I open my eyes and sit up. Another nightmare. I deserve it; I killed someone. I _killed_ someone. I destroyed a family. I stand up and shake my head to clear it. No, Sonic, you're in the Hunger Games. Any killing I do is out of self-defense.

 _But she didn't attack you._

But everyone I don't kill comes back around to bite me.

 _You didn't have to-_

Shut up! I can't focus.

 _You can't make m-_

I pick up a stone and hurl it back into the water. Why can't I just move on?

 _Because you ki-_

I told you, shut up! What to do… What to do… Yes, that's it. I have to get busy. Keep my mind active. I march to my fallen log and take out two bottles of kerosene. I'll start with the Outer District Alliance. Wading in the water, I creep up to the fringes of their camp. Hiding behind shrubbery, I peer out at the pile of supplies.

There's no one here. Of course, there's no one. Arden usually guards at this time, and she must've seen something and got distracted. Or maybe no one's on watch at this time. Both ways, it's time to make my move. I quickly sneak up to their pile of backpacks and pour the entire bottle of kerosene on it. Hmm, is it enough? I'll add another bottle. I twist the cap open, and a cracking noise echoes through the arena. Shoot. I hear several people, splashing through the water as they come this way. I drop the bottle on the supplies and reach into my pocket, my fingers grabbing for the matchbox. I fish it out, grab a match, and light it. Here goes nothing. I drop it onto the first backpack and only have time to watch it light before I run. They're coming back and I can't be found here.

I barrel between the trees, praying that I won't be caught. I hear a shout from one of the boys. They've figured it out. My foot catches on something, and I tumble into the water, my face hitting the stagnant water with a splash. No time to lose. I scramble back to my feet, the front part of my body covered in mud, and continue to run.

As soon as I don't hear them anymore, I slow down to a walk. This didn't go ideally, but at least their supplies are gone. Now it's time for the Inner District Alliance.

Once again, as I did the previous time, I sneak up into my vantage point. This one won't be as easy. All five of them are sitting around, doing absolutely nothing. If only I could create a distraction… Nope, that's out of the question. I can't be in two places at once. Well, I guess I have to wait. I get as comfortable as I can and watch them.

"We should be doing something with our day," Imperial says, "I bet everyone loves watching us do nothing."

"Do we go hunt?" Androcles asks, "And leave a guard or two?"

"No," Aria says, "Remember? We can't split because the Outer Alliance will always have the number advantage on one group."

"Speaking of hunting," Creek says, "Is anyone else hungry for meat? We've been eating fish salad pretty much every day."

"Hey, don't complain," Aemelia says, "Besides, we had dried fruit yesterday morning, I think."

"See, you don't even remember it."

There's silence for a while.

"But really," Aria says, "Considering what we have, we're not too bad off. Meat would be nice, though. I can't believe nobody thought of taking the wire from the Cornucopia with us."

"We could go back," Imperial says, a little too eagerly. I wonder what he's up to.

"Wouldn't it have been looted?" Creek says.

"Probably not. Even if it was, we hid most of the stuff we left behind in the water. It should be okay."

Creek shrugs. "Do we have anything better to do?"

Aemelia gets up. "Sure. Sounds like more fun than sitting around. But what do we do with this stuff here? It's a little much to carry."

"We leave it," Imperial says. Huh? I didn't know they were that stupid. Something's off; I can feel it. Somehow, he gets everyone to agree, and they set off, Imperial holding a backpack. Oh well, it's my turn now.

I step up to the pile, and just like the other one, I douse it in kerosene and drop a lit match. I've barely turned around when there's an explosion and a burning sensation is my right arm. A burning piece of plastic from the explosion must've hit me. Grunting, I drop myself into the water. I had forgotten that any pressurized cans inside would explode. Another explosion occurs. I have to get away quickly before something else explodes and kills me. I hear running and splashing behind me.

"Over there!"

I don't have time to process the voice before I'm up and running, clutching my arm in my other hand. I bolt through the swamp, trying to get away. They saw me. They know who I am.

Slowly, their sounds disappear. I got away. It's safe now, so I circle back to my camp and get out my first-aid kit.

I did it. The realization fully dawns on me. I made it! I've successfully destroyed the lifelines of the two major alliances in the arena.

At this rate, I might be able to win.

 _ **Alder Blackthorn, 16, District Seven Male**_

Arden and I pick from a blueberry bush. We have wild ones at home, so this works for us.

"Don't you think we should have left someone back to guard?" I ask, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest.

"We probably should've," she replies, "But-"

I take another sniff of the air. "Wait. Do you smell smoke?"

She straightens up and sniffs. "I think it is…"

It dawns on us at the same time. The supplies. I immediately turn heel and run back to camp, swinging my ax at my side. The smell of smoke gets stronger as we get closer, and when we arrive, we see the pile burning in flames. I let out a shout as the Tens arrive.

"Hurry! Put out the fire!" Angus shouts. Should've thought of it. I begin to splash water on it, as the others are doing. Angus takes off his waterproof jacket and uses it to carry larger amounts of water at a time.

The smell of smoke is thick, but I keep splashing. The fire seems to be going out. Angus dumps one last jacket-full of water, and the orange flame goes out.

"Seriously?" Arden says, obviously frustrated. "What is this?"

Angus is picking through the smoldering remains. "All gone," he says, "Even the food that's left is soaked in kerosene or gasoline or something. We aren't getting anything out of that."

Arden lets out a disgruntled sigh.

"Well," Star says, piping up. "It's not that bad. We have food around us, and we had our weapons with us, right?"

"Yeah," I say. Good point.

"Well," Angus says, his voice telling us that he means business. Though he's in no way the loudest one here, it's undeniable that he's in charge. "We need food, fast. They'll try to force into another group now that we've got nothing. I mean another group as in the Inner District Alliance. It makes for a good show."

Star nods. It makes sense; tragedy and unfortunate events are easy to play with.

"So we can't waste our time," he says. "First priority is food. We'll figure out the rest depending on what or who we run into."

I look at Arden, and I realize that she doesn't have an opinion to share. Angus is brilliant. He's bringing us all together to work for a common goal instead of letting this event destroy the alliance. Without a guy like him, I don't know what might've happened.

However, I don't know how long this will last. He looks annoyed.

 _ **Aemelia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

We haven't gone far from our supplies when I hear an explosion back where the camp is. Androcles curses, and we immediately turn and run back, splashing through the water. It's followed by another explosion. The smell of smoke hits me before the camp comes into sight, and my heart drops when I realize what it implies.

Aria cries out in surprise when she, being the fastest, reaches camp first. I'm not far behind her, and my jaw drops when I see the fire that rages in the middle of our camp. Pieces of metal and bits of backpacks are scattered, floating on water and stuck in the above-ground tree roots.

"Over there!" Imperial shouts, pointing at a figure in the distance. We'll never catch up; she's too far ahead. Imperial watches her disappear; he's making notes.

Creek grabs a bowl that had been thrown by the explosions and pours water on the fire.

It clicks in my head, and I try to help put out the fire. The water sizzles as it hits the flame, and the heat is in my face. We slowly put it out.

Androcles, his sleeves rolled up, looks at Imperial. "You suggested that we leave, didn't you? It was _your_ idea. You knew this would happen."

"Yes," Imperial replies, unflinching, "I did. I needed to pull some of our competition out."

"What's that supposed to mean," Androcles says, walking up to the older boy, "and what does that have to do with purposely losing all we have?"

"We need to lure out the hiders," Imperial says, his eyebrow twitching. He's getting mad under that calm composure.

"Well you," Androcles says, jabbing a finger at the other, "Just lost everything. What do you expect to do, huh? Survive off the sponsors? Everything is destroyed!"

Imperial grunts and unleashes. "Try using your brain for once!" he says, "Maybe it'll get through that thick skull of yours that-"

"You're telling me to use my brain?" Androcles says, his voice rising. If I know him at all, this isn't good. "You're the one that thought that giving up all our supplies was a good idea. We caught no one out of this."

"It's not completely useless," Imperial says, shoving Androcles back. Androcles' hands ball into fists. I have to do something or else the whole thing falls apart.

I leap to my feet. "Stop it," I say, interposing myself between the two. "Stop it! We can't afford for our alliance to crack. One we break, the Outer Alliance can pick us off. We need to come up with a plan."

Androcles folds his arms and huffs. "Yeah, easy to say. It's not like we have basic life necessities right now."

"Fish," Creek says, "and Plants. We have food covered."

"All right. Fine," Androcles agrees, obviously reluctantly, "But now we're on the defensive. We've lost our advantage."

"But then again," Aria says, her voice pensive and thoughtful, "That's normal. Just like a game."

 _ **Digit Fuse, 18, District Three Male**_

The sun has just gone down, and Naia and I sit on a makeshift platform we've made between trees. The Panemian anthem plays, but we both know that no one died today.

I give a mock salute. Naia smiles. The sensible part of me says that it'll only make things worse, but things are already bad enough. First of all, I can't run. The knife wound from the Inner Alliance is about an inch deep, so it could be worse, but running is painful and torturous. Next, we can't light a fire, so we're left groping in the dark until Naia can dig out her flashlight.

"Have you found it yet?" I ask.

"No," she says, "No luck. Are you sure we didn't drop it?"

"I don't know. Toss it here; I'll look."

I try my best to dig around in the backpack, but it's too dark. In the bottom of the backpack, I find a hole in the inner lining.

"I think I…" I say. I reach my hand in and pull out something metal and cylindrical. "Got it."

I push the button, and a yellow beam radiates from it.

"Here's your bag back," I say, tossing it to her.

"Thanks," she says, "We need to get out of here."

"Why?"

"The Inner Alliance wouldn't follow us in. I didn't get it at first, but then it hit me. This is the most dangerous part of the arena."

"You still haven't answered my question," I say.

"I'm getting there. The water's deeper here. It's probably teeming with alligators."

Alligators? I've only heard about them in books. District Three isn't great if you want to get to know nature. But I don't need to know what it is to know to stay away from mutts.

"So don't we need to go? Right now?" I ask.

"No," she says, "We can't go running around in the dark — I think. Real alligators sometimes mistake splashing for prey. Since these are mutts, we'll definitely die if we go off running in the dark."

"So…"

"We leave as soon as it's bright enough to see," she says, "I'll take the first watch."

"Thanks."

I lean my head back against the tree. At first, this was uncomfortable, but I'm getting used to it. Soon, my eyes are closed and everything fades into bliss.

"Psst, Digit. Wake up."

I open my eyes and sit up. "What? What time is it?"

"About midnight. Listen," she whispers. For the first time so far, her voice is laced with fear. I pay close attention to the noises around us. I hear a soft swishing as if someone—or something—was wading in the water.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Should I use the flashlight?" I ask.

"S- Sure. Go ahead."

I turn it on.

I stare into the face of an alligator.

 **Questions (Yes, I did leave you with a cliffhanger):**

 **1\. What did Sonic really accomplish? Was it worth the injury?**

 **2\. How did the Inner Alliance and the Outer Alliance differ in their reactions? Which will have better long-term effects?**

 **3\. What do you think will happen to Naia and Digit?**

 **4\. Predictions? Who will die next? Who will not be dying anytime soon?**

 **5\. Will you miss me while I'm gone? :)**

 **My goal is to get one more chapter out before I leave Monday morning. I won't be able to pull two because the next one is long and has 5 POVs planned. Now… I'll get back to packing…**

 **See y'all soon!**

 **~Joseph**


	29. The Games, Day 7

**A/N Welp, I lied. I said that it would be a long chapter, but the POVs ended up being shorter than planned... So it's average length.**

 **Here's a shoutout to IVolunteerAsAuthor and his collab SYOT with betttyy called _Thunder and Lightning_. Though I don't know betttyy well, I know that IVolunteerAsAuthor is an amazing guy. Y'all should submit to it. Another bonus: The form isn't too long, so it's more manageable (and less intimidating).**

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female**_

The beam of light from Digit's flashlight hits an alligator. The breath is sucked from my lungs. Alligators. They're deadly enough at home; there's no telling what the mutt form is like.

I come to my senses. We have to run. The platform we're on isn't high enough off the ground, and the trees here don't have any low branches we can climb on.

"Run," I say, stuffing everything into my backpack, putting it on, and landing in the water, holding my spear. It's dark, but my eyes have adjusted. Digit slings his backpack over his shoulder and gets off the platform, wincing as his wounded thigh hits the wood.

"I'm good," he says, "Let's go."

I begin to run, Digit beside me. I don't know how he's able to run like that in his condition. Perhaps it's sheer determination. There's splashing ahead of us. I'll have to take care of this; Digit's dagger won't do any good unless the monster gets close—which is too late. Digit shines his light ahead of us, and I thrust my spear into a mutt. Just like spear fishing. Nothing to be afraid of. Something roars behind us. Roar? Alligators usually don't roar. Then again, alligators usually don't group together like they are now. When mutts are involved, all bets are off. I try to run even faster.

Something's wrong. Digit can't keep up. I slow down, just a bit.

"Don't slow for me," he says, groaning.

"No, it's okay," I say, "I don't leave people behind."

Suddenly, a huge monster leaps at us, its huge jaws snapping. I skewer it with the spear.

"I'm telling you, go ahead!"

"No!" I insist, "I'm staying with you."

"I'm not getting you killed."

"I'm not getting killed."

Another alligator lunges at us. I stick my spear down its throat, killing it.

"You're still staying?'

"Yeah. C'mon, don't slow."

A huge roar shatters my ears, and before I know it, an alligator has its jaws around Digit's waist. He screams in pain, stabbing at it.

"No!" I thrust the spear into the alligator again and again. "Just die!"

It slumps into the water, its blood floating to the top, mixing with Digit's blood. I catch Digit as he falls forward. Everything goes silent.

"I... told you," he says through clenched teeth. The pain must be unimaginable. His abdomen is shredded, and blood is everywhere.

I shush him and half-carry, half-drag him to the closest tree, where I tie him up because he can't stand and I can't put him down in the water. He yelps when the rope hits his wound.

"Please… just…. Ah!... end it."

"N-No," I say, trying to control myself, "I-I can't."

"Do it!" he cries, "It… it hurts… I can't… stand… it."

"I can't!" I say, feeling my control on my emotions going down the drain, "I- I can't." Why can't I just do it? He won't survive; I know that for sure. He deserves a quick death as opposed to this suffering. Pull yourself together. You can do this. He wants it.

"...Okay," I say, breathing heavily.

I grip my spear, and he gives me a pained, grateful smile. "Make… them… pay," he says, "Burn… it down…"

"I will," I say.

"It's your…"

"It's my duty," I say, finishing his sentence. He nods and braces himself. Here I go. I stab him in the heart, and the cannon sounds immediately.

Alright, Capitol. You asked for this. You think that we are Meaningless, that we have no purpose except to serve you. When you get what's coming to you, you'll see who we really are.

 _ **Imperial Gallium, 18, District One Male**_

It worked. My plan worked. Sure, we lost a lot of supplies, but the Gamemakers were generous with food this year. We'll be fine. Now, I just have to find the girl. She's wounded, and that's good for me. It's early in the morning, and as the sun peeps over the horizon, I stand up and walk to where Aria is sleeping. I shake her.

"Aria, Wake up."

She opens her eyes and yawns. "What?"

"I'm going to go see if I can track down the girl," I say, "Can you watch for me?"

"Sure, go ahead," she says, getting up. "Be careful."

I smile and get my spear. Now, where to begin… I know which direction she went in, so I have a lead. I begin moving in that direction, watching carefully.

It's a little hard in the dim light, but once my eyes have adjusted to look for signs, it's not hard. First, it's a snapped branch. Then there's a tree where a large portion of the bark has been rubbed against. She must've stopped here to rest or check her wounds. Then a patch of water lilies was disturbed. Usually, it's not so easy, but because she ran in a hurry, she wasn't careful to conceal her tracks. It makes my job easier.

Slowly, the disturbances become more and more numerous. This must be where she hides out. I find a fallen tree that has her marks all over it. My boot hits something, and I bend down to check. It's a bottle of kerosene. It's probably what she used on our supplies Yep, I've found my target. I hear movement in the distance, and I crouch to avoid being seen. I also put my jacket's hood on to cover my hair, which tends to reflect light. The girl from Six is about a hundred feet away, carrying an armful of greens. Alright, arsonist. You're getting what's coming to you. I move slowly, creeping around the bushes, careful to avoid drawing attention to myself. She seems to be humming something; it's probably a song that reminds her of home. I'm sorry, but I want to go home too.

She stops at a big tree, which seems to be her camp. I move in closer and closer until I'm on the opposite side of the tree trunk. Here I go.

I dash around the tree and pin her to the trunk before she has time to react. Her eyes are full of fear.

"You're the one, aren't you," I say, "Though it was a good idea to burn our supplies?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"Then how do you explain that?" I ask, gesturing to her hurt arm. "It was all a setup, by the way. You fell for it."

She spits in my face. I personally don't mind. I'd probably do the same if I were in her position.

"Well, goodbye." I stab her with the spear, and she screams. Best to end it quickly; drawing it out and torturing them is pointless, Meaningless. The cannon sounds after a few more stabs.

Job done. Time to get back.

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

Angus throws down a pile of firewood, which he's been collecting all day. It's no small feat in this swamp, though I've noticed that the water level has been going down all day.

"Done," he says. Arden, sitting in a tree a little distance off, looks up before going back to whatever she's doing. Alder is nowhere to be seen. I think he went to pick more berries.

Angus comes over to the log I'm sitting on and sits beside me, brushing the wood chips off his hands. He's been working all day.

"Thanks," I say, "For your work. You work harder than Arden and I put together."

He flashes a brief smile for the first time in days. "Thanks," he says. His face turns serious again.

"Are you okay?" I say.

"Sure, why not?"

"You seem… tense."

"We're in a deathmatch," he says, brushing it off, "Aren't you tense?"

"No, not like that. I don't mean nervous."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Tense as in… unhappy with something," I say, trying to find the right words, "Like something's wrong. Like you're upset."

"Why would I be upset?"

"You tell me. Don't lie; I know that something's wrong."

"It's fine."

"C'mon. If you're mad, don't hold it in. It'll only make things worse."

He glances at Arden, who gets up to go talk to Alder, who's returning to camp, and lets out a deep breath. "No one seems to care, you know?"

"No one cares?" I say, "Why would you think that?"

"I'm trying to be everything I'm supposed to be. I'm trying to do everything my dad would do. But they," he says, gesturing to the Sevens, "They don't care. I offer to take the worst watch every night. After Arden was traumatized from the Nine girl, I did everything. I'm the one getting the firewood because no one else wants it. I'm trying my best to keep the alliance together, but they don't seem to notice. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm boasting, but I feel so done. The only reason I'm still doing this is because we need this alliance to stick if I want to get home."

He takes a deep breath after his rant. The Sevens are still talking, oblivious to our conversation. What am I supposed to say in a time like this?

"I appreciate you," I say, "I appreciate you a lot. I wouldn't be in this alliance if you hadn't stuck by me. I'd probably be dead."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. Your girlfriend is a lucky girl," I say, completely meaning every word.

He doesn't say anything. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks about it. He presses his lips together. "Thanks," he says after a few moments of silence, "But if they start taking me for granted and bossing me around, I'm done."

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17, District Eleven Male**_

I sit down on a log. Huh. The water's only about an inch deep now; it's been dropping. When did it start? I don't know; Magnolia's been all I can think about.

It's so quiet without her now. When she was here, I knew I wasn't alone. Even if she wasn't speaking, I heard her walking, her breathing. Then she died. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried for most of yesterday. To have the love of your life, the one you've been dreaming about for years, ripped out of your life; it's devastating, like a tornado. One moment she's there; the next moment she's gone, pulled away by the swirling storm we call life. That in itself is horrible, but the silence is even worse.

Silence. The reminder that you're completely alone. I hate it. After my brother died, there was silence. The hole that he left was amplified by the silence. It's like that now.

I crawl up a tree as the sun goes down. There were two cannons today; each one reminded me of Magnolia. The first one woke me up; I thought I was dreaming. The anthem plays, and the first face is the boy from Three. I don't remember him well; I only remember him refusing to speak to Jovian during the interviews. The next one is the girl from Six. I don't remember anything about her. I think she was the only person working alone.

Oh… She must've been Magnolia's killer. I want to speak at her picture, curse it, blame it for everything, but it only lasts for a moment before she's gone too.

She's gone. Magnolia's killer is also gone. Life is so short. I can't keep moping around like this; the Gamemakers will probably kill me next if I keep this up.

But before I move on, I need to say one last goodbye. I look up at the sky; I believe she's watching me. I close my eyes and sing.

 _I want to go to a place where I'm with you_

 _Stand under the blue sky and make you smile_

 _Nothing that this world can ever do_

 _Will ever change my love for you._

Magnolia, I will forever love you.

 _ **Divina Bling, 26, Capitol Reporter**_

I watch the boy from Eleven sing, and I can feel my heart break. When my boyfriend died, music was my way out.

Well, that was before I got this job. I wipe at the tears that have sprung to my eyes. I would keep watching, but I have to go. I have an interview with Head Gamemaker Maximius Reyne. I quickly leave my apartment and get in my pink car with purple polka dots. I'm quite proud of it, really. Polka dots are becoming all the rage, and being a reporter, I get the first news about what's hot. Right now, it's cars with polka dots.

Pretty soon, I'm at the Au Lait Cafe, famous for being the best cafe in the Capitol. I go in and find a seat where I can see the entrance, and I sit down on the plushy chair. When Maximius comes in the door, I stand up and wave. This isn't my first interview with him, and I know he's a nice guy. He's a little oblivious when it comes to fashion but a nice guy nonetheless.

"Hello, Mr. Reyne," I say, shaking his hand.

"Hello, Divina. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Maximius?"

"I'm sorry," I say, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," he says, a relaxed smile on his face, "If I ate or drank something at every interview I had, I'd be obese."

"I bet," I say. I hope that didn't sound rude. "If you don't mind, I'll start the interview."

"Go ahead."

"So, what makes this year different from other years?" I say.

"Of course," he says, "The personalities are different every year, and I think that that is what makes every year's Hunger Games special. Each tribute is so unique; they all contribute something different."

"Yes, yes. But sometimes the Games get… repetitive. As a Gamemaker, you know that human psychology can be predictable. What do you plan to do to break it up this year?"

"Well, if you haven't been paying attention, we've been draining the arena. It's temporary, of course, but water doesn't go well with what we have planned. I'm not telling any more."

"One last thing. When can we expect this surprise?"

"Tomorrow morning."

 **Eulogies:**

 _ **Digit Fuse, 18, District Three Male.**_ **Placed 13th. Submitted by CeEeA**

 **Digit was a great character. He was everything I wanted in a rebel, and it complemented Naia very well. As with most characters in this story, I wish I could've kept him around longer, but unfortunately, it was his time to go. The other characters were more important to the plot than he was, and I couldn't keep him around.**

 _ **Sonic Wheel, 15, District Six Female.**_ **Placed 12th. Submitted by MoonLitt Tears**

 **I also loved Sonic as a character because she was very good for the plot. Her attitude contrasted with her quiet personality, and originally, I had planned for her to last longer. It just didn't work out that way, but I will always remember her as a character.**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Will you miss Digit? How will Naia move forward? Other thoughts?**

 **2\. What do you think of Sonic's death? Was I the only person that was reminded of Coil from Equal Chances? What do you think of Imperial's tracking skills?** **Other thoughts?**

 **3\. How much longer will the Outer District Alliance stay together?** **Other thoughts?**

 **4\. What did you think of my songwriting skills? XD. Hirst... anyone else just want to give him a hug?** **Other thoughts?**

 **5\. What do you think the Gamemakers are planning? What do you think of all the Capitolites shown so far?**

 **6\. So far, which of the fallen do you miss the most?**

 **7\. Do you think I'll be able to get Day 8 out before I leave?**

 **Please review! It's so encouraging, and I delight in opening my email and finding a review from any one of you guys.**

 **See y'all,**

 **~Joseph**


	30. The Games, Day 8

**A/N YAS! I FINISHED IT! I'm literally writing this as I wait for my plane. I'm leaving… That's the bad news. On the flip side, I may have found a way to get to the internet, so I may be able to update. But then again, I have a hectic schedule there, so I may not have time to write. We'll see.**

 **Here's Day Eight.**

 _ **Alder Black**_ **thorn** _ **, 16, District Seven Male**_

I have the last watch of the night, or, as Arden puts it, the last watch of the morning. Either way, I'm responsible for watching until everyone wakes up. This morning, the sky is exceptionally blue, and there's a fairly strong wind. I look at my three allies, sleeping on the now dry ground. We've come so far together; I can't imagine having to kill any of them. Star is such a nice person; she was a bit cold at first, but we've broken the ice. We wouldn't have stuck together this far if it weren't for Angus, always responsible. And Arden, she's from home. I don't think I could bring myself to kill any of them — why did I volunteer anyway? If I had waited, someone else probably would've volunteered. I'm a little too nice for this; I just can't kill these people. You can't expect me to trust them for a week or so before turning on them. I don't work like that.

Angus is the first to get up, his face stern and quiet. I see the family resemblance; when he does that, he looks like his dad, the mayor. But this worries me. I don't remember him like this during training. He sits down and steams some wild tubers in water over a cooking fire. It'll make a good breakfast. The girls get up at about the same time, and we all sit down to eat.

"Give me the bag," I say, looking at Angus. We have two bags left after the burning of our supplies, and Angus is the closest to both of them. Suddenly, he gets up.

"Okay," he says, "I'm done." He throws the bits left of his breakfast down onto the floor. "I'm done."

"What do you mean?" Arden says, looking up.

"I said I'm done. I'm done being your servant."

"C'mon, what are you saying?" I ask.

"I'm not going to let y'all sit around and let me do all the work."

"You do all the work?" I say, "We've been working too."

He snorts. "Not nearly as much. Who's the one that gets the worst watch every night? Me. Who does the jobs that no one wants? Me. Who made this effing breakfast that you're eating right now? M-"

"I'm sorry," Arden says, cutting him off, "But you volunteered to do all this. We didn't make you."

"Would you have done it?" he shoots back. "At least you could've shown that you noticed."

"Look," I say, "Really sorry. If you had told us-"

"You," Arden interjects.

"Fine. If you had told me what you thought, I would've tried to fix it."

"That's what you say," he says, his voice steeped in anger. How have I missed this the whole time? How did I let it get this bad?

"Well, fine," Arden says, "Maybe that is what we say. But you don't have to whine about it. Suck it up; you're sixteen."

"And maybe you should learn to work," Angus says, "Take the initiative and get stuff done instead of loitering around all day like a rich lady with nothing better."

That seems to have hit a sensitive spot. Arden's face turns red with rage. "You-"

"Shut up!" Star shouts. We all look at her. Star? Shouting? "Stop! Pay attention."

"To… what?" Arden asks. Of course, she breaks the magic of the moment.

"Do you smell smoke?" Star asks.

"It's not like we have a fire _right here_ ," Arden says, pointing to the cooking fire.

"That was made from dead wood," Star says, "Which doesn't smoke that much. I smell green wood burning."

Whoops. I should've known that, being from Seven. Arden looks like she feels the same. Angus still looks salty and leans against a tree, watching us.

"That's it!" Star exclaims, "They drained the arena yesterday for this! And this ground…" She bends down to dig around in the soil.

I think I'm catching on. "Oh… This is peat, which burns really, really well."

"Wait!" Arden says, "So… Wildfire."

Wildfire. Being from Seven, I know that wildfires can be some of the most destructive forces of nature, especially with this wind.

"Okay," I say, taking charge. I've dealt with this situation before. "We go in a direction perpendicular to the direction of the wind."

"Why not with the wind?" Star asks.

"If the wind picks up, the fire will outspeed us," Arden explains.

"So," I say, "I'll take a backpack. Arden, you take the other one." She's physically stronger than Star. I look up at Angus. "But man, I'd appreciate it if you stick by us. We _need_ you."

Angus groans and throws his hands up. "Fine."

I don't know what makes him say that, but I'm glad he does. "Oh, and thank you," I say, "I appreciate it. Now let's go!" I lead in the front; Arden brings up the rear. Right now, the fire is only a small spark in the distance with smoke billowing up from it, but it won't be long before it spreads here. Also, if we go unconscious from the smoke, that fire's gonna eat us up.

I hold up my hands. "Everyone stop."

"Why?"

"Get a drink of some water while you can," I say. Water. Darn it.

Arden's eyes light up as if she realized the same thing. "But if we're supposed to find water in a forest fire… and the entire arena is drained..."

"We're just going to have to outlast it," I say, finishing her sentence. She curses. "Conserve your water," I say, "Let's move on." We go, Angus now in the back. Sometime in the past few minutes, he started carrying Arden's bag. Being willing to help again can only be a good sign.

Suddenly, the wind grows in intensity. The fire begins to fly ahead, and smoke begins to cover the sky. We're definitely stuck going this direction now. A thought pops into my head. The Gamemakers are trying to drive us somewhere… right? I hope so; that's better than just flat out trying to kill us. Where? The Cornucopia? Smoke is getting strong.

"Cover your nose and mouth!" I call, pulling up my shirt. To cover the lower half of my face. It's drenched in sweat, but that moisture is good. Now we're going slightly downhill. If there's any water anywhere in the arena, we're in the right direction.

Soon, my eyes are stinging from the smoke. The air is hot from the fire, and I know that now, we can't afford to stop at all. The wind changes direction, and call for everyone to keep up. We're being surrounded by fire on two sides. This isn't good, but we have to run. The fire is raging, spreading faster and faster. A tree right in front of us catches fire, I swerve and change direction again. We're all going to die here, aren't we. I press on, though. If I'm dying, I'm going down trying my hardest to live.

There's a flash of light up ahead, like light reflecting off something shiny. Water? In this arena? We are going downhill…

"That looks like water up ahead!" I call. I plow on at full speed, the wind blowing harder, and the fire spreading faster. I feel the warmth against my skin. Suddenly, there's a thud and a shout behind me. I turn around, and a huge, burning tree trunk lies on the ground. "Anyone hurt?"

"Angus!" Star cries, "He's on the other side! The tree cut him off."

"Are you okay?" I scream.

"Yes… mostly!" he calls back, "Go ahead; don't wait for me. I'll find another way around!"

I can't leave him. We agreed to ally, and I'm not throwing that down the drain in a moment like this. I run back, but someone grabs me from behind.

"Arden! Get off," I say, pulling myself from her grasp.

"No. You listen to me!" she says, "We. Have. To. Go."

"Go!" Angus shouts, "I'll be fine!"

Okay, Angus, as you wish.

Star is frozen in terror, and I pull her by the arm. "C'mon, let's go. Do it for him." I turn around. "Arden! Just go! I'll catch up." She takes off. "Please, Star." I look past the burning trunk. "He's moved on too. He'll find a way back."

"O- O- Okay," she stutters, coming to her senses. We run for it, and soon enough, our boots are splashing in a stretch of mud and water. There's a cannon.

"Angus?" Star says, her face pale. A tear rolls down the side of her cheek. Arden looks away, unsure of what to do.

"M- Maybe it wasn't him," I say. "It could've been anyone. That fire affected everyone."

Star doesn't look convinced. Even I don't know what to think.

Angus, please make it. Come back to us. We need you.

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17, District Eleven Male**_

I open my eyes, half expecting to see her face. Nope. I was probably stupid for going to sleep, but I'm alive now. That's all that matters in here. I get up and stretch.

My nose picks up on smoke. Smoke? Is there someone nearby? It's too strong for that. I face the gentle morning breeze and see smoke coming out of a hole in the ground, maybe a few hundred feet away. I pack up my stuff. I'm moving today, but before I go, I walk closer to the smoking hole and look inside. An orange flame burns inside. How? What's fueling it? All of a sudden, the ground around it crumbles in, and I jump back. The soil burns. In that case…

I've gotta go. I walk away from it. It's best not to stay near it.

There's the crackle of somethings else burning. I look behind, and to my terror, I see that it has completely enveloped a tree, racing along the branches and hitting other trees. The wind picks up, and I finally realize what this is.

Forest Fire.

I've never been in a forest fire, but I've seen the damage caused by wildfires in orchards. Two months ago, a fire in the cherry orchard killed over fifty people. One of them was my neighbor. I begin to run.

The wind gets stronger and stronger. The Gamemakers must be determined to wreck this arena. I can feel the heat behind me; I can't stop.

What am I supposed to do in case of fire? That's right; find water. Water goes down, so I go downhill. Smoke is everywhere; it's getting hard to breathe. I put my sleeve up over my mouth to take in that oxygen. I pause for a moment to take a drink of water, and then I'm off again. I know I'm fast, but this fire? If the wind gets any stronger, I'm dead.

Thankfully, it doesn't. I press on, running until I can't feel my legs. Must. Keep. Going. I can't die; I have to live for my family, my friends.

For Magnolia.

A burning tree falls in front of me. I skid to a stop, narrowly missing being burned by the flames. I swerve to the side and keep running. The wind gets bigger. No. NO. I see fire fly above my head, burning trees on all side of me and catching the soil on fire.

I'm trapped. I can't go anywhere. The soil underneath me will burn; there's no mud. I have a few drops of water left in my water bottle; I don't have enough to help me water a way out.

The fire advances towards me. The wicked flames crackle and tease me, laughing as if I was their prey.

Magnolia, oh Magnolia. I'm so sorry.

But I'll soon be in a place where I'm with you.

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male**_

I watch as Star and Alder run for the water. Good. Though they might've annoyed the crap outta me just earlier, I still care about them. Now, to find a way around…

A cannon sounds. Was it one of them? It can't be; they're safe. They probably think I died. That means I have to try even harder to get back.

There's only one way to go; the other three sides are blocked by fire, so I run. A flaming branch falls behind me. That was too close. I look ahead. I just have to go a little farther, and then I can loop back to where they are. Another tree falls, blocking my way. I curse. I'm stuck going straight ahead.

The smoke's so thick that I don't notice the clouds until it begins to thunder. Rain. The thought has barely popped into my mind when the downpour begins. I need shelter—now. I take my whip out of my backpack and tie it between two trees, and then I take out the tarp and hang it over. I use rocks to secure the end. There. My makeshift tent.

I crawl inside, and I barely have space to sit up straight. It'll have to work, though, and the tarp protects me from the rain. I sit with my arms around my legs, and my stomach growls. I grab the backpack and get a piece of beef jerky, chewing slowly. I want to save as much as I can for them. I put my bottle out to collect water, and it fills up surprisingly quickly. I should probably stay awake, but my body cries out for rest. I close my eyes and give in.

I wake up. It's completely silent now; the rain has stopped. I'm now sitting in an inch of water, so I get up and clean up the tarp. It's late in the afternoon now; the sun will be gone soon. I manage to get my whip off of the dead trunks and move on.

I don't recognize the place anymore. Everything's burnt; even the water looks dirty. The arena is only a shell of its former glory. I hear something behind me, and I turn around.

The girl from Two stands there, a deadly sword in her hand.

"Look," she says. "I don't want to fight. You don't want to fight. Just let us end it quickly, okay?"

I take a few steps backward. "What's to keep me from running?"

"Look behind you."

I turn my head, and the girl from One stands there. Looking around, I see that the other three of them are also around me, trapping me.

I could give in right now. Or maybe I could stab myself right now and avoid trusting them. That'd probably be the least painful, and pain isn't something I want right now. I'm reminded of one of my dad's quotes.

" _A real leader puts the needs of others over his own needs."_

But this is different. I might be tortured if I don't give in now.

" _You were created to lead. Don't back down because of hardship."_

But I don't think you meant torture when you said hardship.

" _Sometimes, you have you sacrifice yourself to save others."_

I think of Star and her family. She was Reaped. Her family must've been devastated. Alder and Arden have people waiting for them. If I'm going to die, the least I can do is to do as much damage as I can against this Inner Alliance. Maybe that will improve Star's chances of winning. Mira, I hope you're not watching. This isn't going to be pretty. I swing my backpack down onto the ground.

"What's your decision," the girl from Two asks.

"I'm going to have to surrender," I say, bending down. I have quite a few throwing knives in here in addition to my whip. "But not before I take you down." Before I finish speaking, I throw a knife into the girl's abdomen. Because my goal is speed, my shots are all a little off, but I've hit them. They charge, and I grab my whip. The girl from Two is the major threat, but she's hit in a crucial spot. She'll bleed to death without treatment. The next major threats are the boys from One and Two. I can't take down the guy from Two with his ax, but Imperial seems like a manageable target. I flick the whip out, striking him, and I lunge at him before he recovers. I tackle him to the ground, and I find one of my knives on the ground. I grab it and stab him in the arm, abdomen, anywhere I can manage before the final blow comes. Fire courses through my body as something embeds itself in my back. I think that's my spine breaking. I scream as the pain overtakes me, but inside, I'm calm.

Dad, I know I made you proud.

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female**_

Androcles yanks the ax out of the boy's back and cuts off his head with a quick swing. The dead body falls onto Imperial.

I let out a cry. "Are you okay?"

Imperial groans, his entire body and face covered in blood and soot. I rush to his side and roll the dead body off. One look and I know he can't walk.

"Is there anything we can carry him with?" I say, looking around.

Aemilia looks up from the backpack of the boy from Ten. "Here's some tarp. We can carry him to the Cornucopia."

It's not that far; he can make it. "Okay," I say. I look back down at Imperial. "We're going to roll you over. It'll probably hurt, but we can't leave you here."

Androcles and Creek help me push Imperial onto the tarp, and I try to pick up an end.

"No," Creek says, "Androcles and I will carry him. We need you to be our medic."

I nod. Thankfully, I was barely grazed by the guy's knives, so I'm on condition to help. Where to start… Aemilia.

"Are you okay?" I say. She still has the knife on the left side of her abdomen.

"It's only about an inch deep," I say, "It could be a lot worse. I'll bandage it up and you should be fine for now." I feel around before I realize that I have no medical supplies on me. "Well, I'll do it back at camp."

We've set up camp at the Cornucopia. Though the Cornucopia is now sitting in water because we burned the wooden platform under it, parts of the platform are still intact.

I grab a first aid kit from a backpack and start with Aemilia. After I carefully remove the knife, I rub disinfectant cream on her wound before wrapping gauze around her body.

"Thanks," she says.

"What else is an ally for?" I reply.

Androcles has a knife in his right arm.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I don't think you'll be able to throw axes now."

He sighs but doesn't say anything.

"At least you can still fight directly up against a person," I say, trying to encourage him. The guy from Ten either aimed really badly or didn't think through it too much because the knife it to the side, missing the most important muscles.

Creek is next. This is the good thing about being hurt by knives; it's a lot better than actually being stabbed or something. A thrown knife isn't as strong, so it rarely goes deep enough to really cause a ton of damage. Creek only has two shallow wounds, and he'll be fine.

Finally, I come to Imperial. When I see all his stab wounds and his bloody body, I can't help but gasp. I crouch beside him.

"It doesn't look too good… Does it…" he says.

"No, but I'll try," I say. I get out the disinfectant cream.

"Don't waste it… on me," he says, "You know I'm going to die… in the next day… or so."

"Don't say that," I say, determination creeping in, "I am going to dress every last one of your wounds."

"It… won't help…"  
"Be quiet!" I say, "Do you want me to help you or not?" He doesn't reply. "I thought so."

I feel a little silly after a few minutes. He won't make it; everyone knows that. But why am I still holding on?

I know. It's because he's all I have of home.

—

 **My babes died this chapter… :'(**

 **Eulogies:**

 _ **Hirst Arum, 17, District Eleven Male.**_ **Placed 11th. Submitted by LlamaRoid**

 **Ahhhh…. I loved Hirst. Unlike so many other District Eleven tributes, his backstory didn't overpower his personality, and he was overall a very well-rounded, well-created tribute. Sadly, my pre-planned story didn't have any more room for him, and he had to go. He's a prime example of a perfectly good tribute with a perfectly good submitter who just had to die… Sorry, LlamaRoid. Hope you keep reading on.**

 _ **Angus Derwin, 16, District Ten Male.**_ **Placed 10th. Submitted by EthanW32**

 **And….. Angus. I loved Angus. I can say that he was my favorite character, hands down, and I hated to kill him so early. If it wasn't for the pre-planned plot (which ties into the overall plot of this series), he might've won. I really can't say how much I'm sorry, Ethan. I hope you don't hate me.  
**

—

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Hirst… :'(. Did you see this coming? Thoughts? Who'll miss him?**

 **2\. Angus… Did you expect this? Thoughts? How will his allies move on?**

 **3\. What do you predict for the Inner District Alliance?**

—

 **I'll be writing on the plane and whenever I can, so even if I don't update, rest assured that chapters are sitting on this laptop of mine, just waiting to be posted.**

 **See y'all!**

 **~Joseph**


	31. The Games, Days 9 & 10

**A/N Greetings from Taiwan! I wrote both Day 9 and Day 10 on the plane, and since they're semi-closely entwined and both fall short of 2000 words, I combined them into one chapter. It appears that I may have semi-regular access to the internet, so when I do finish a chapter, I'll post it. I'm quite busy here, though, so don't count on updates every other day or anything.**

 **Day 9**

 _ **Arden Caville, 18, District Seven Female**_

Angus is dead. Gone.

I once heard that a great leader must also be a servant, but I never believed it. After all, in this world, who has the time to sacrifice themselves for another person? Life is short, and everyone just wants to get ahead. But Angus… he was different. He was willing to serve and do the work that no one else wanted to do. That, I think, made him the greatest leader. Now that he's gone, I'm starting to appreciate him more. I took the middle watch last night, the one that he usually took. It's the worst because you get the least sleep, and after one night, I'm already annoyed. I can't imagine what he felt every day.

"How do you think he died?" Star asks, eating some dried fruit for breakfast.

"I- I don't know," I say, uneasy with the topic. I prefer not to talk about the dead.

"If he was the first cannon," Alder says, "he probably burned to death."

"But that cannon came too soon," Star says, "It takes a little longer than that to burn someone to death."

"How do you know?" I ask.

"I'm from the livestock district, remember?" she says, "We burn diseased animals that're beyond hope. I didn't think about it yesterday, but it makes sense in my head now."

"So if he was the second cannon," Alder says, "He was either killed by a widow maker tree or another tribute."

A widow maker tree is a dead tree after a fire, named because of its tendency to fall and kill people without warning. It's more than likely.

"I like to think that he died heroically," Star says, "Trying to help us."

I snort. "I don't think anyone is that good. If he got caught by the Inner Alliance, I think he would've surrendered. No one is that selfless. We're all in this to survive."

Star shrugs. "Think what you want, but there is more good in this world than you think."

 _ **Creek Langston, 18, District Four Male**_

I sit down beside Imperial. Aria went to go figure out our food situation earlier, so he needs someone to keep him company. It's not like he can get up and do anything.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey yourself," he says. If I was in his pain, I'd probably be grumpy too.

"C'mon," I say. It can't hurt to brighten his mood. "Don't give me that. Be a little more positive."

He snorts. "If you haven't noticed, I'm dying right now."

"Sorry for trying," I say. I guess I'm not that great with people.

Aria comes back. "We're good with food," she says, "We have enough to last a few more days. I don't think the Games are going to be much longer than that, so we should be fine. We need water, though."

"I'll do it," I say, "You can keep Mr. Grumpy here company." Imperial groans.

Aria smiles. "Okay."

I walk over to the supply pile, where Aemilia is sitting, carving up a piece of scrap wood. "Are you any good at woodcarving?" I ask.

"Nope," she says, "I'm pretty much trash at whittling. I'm bored enough."

I grab the bag with all our water and my spear, and I walk to the section of the swamp that wasn't as heavily burnt. The water is cleaner and better-tasting here, and I scoop up the first bottle-full of water. I place a purification tablet in the water. Repeat. I hear footsteps, and I get up. I look into the face of none other than Naia Whyte.

"Fancy meeting you here," she says, disdain clear in her voice.

"The feeling is mutual," I reply.

"Grab your spear," she says.

"Oh? Are you sure that arming your opponent is a good idea?"

"I'm sorry; I'm not like you. I don't kill someone without giving them a chance."

"I'm sorry; I thought you were like all your rebel friends, who kill our own citizens without giving them a chance."

"We don't," she says.

"Uh-huh," I say, "Remind me about that little girl who died in rebel flames. Did your friends give her a chance?"

"We didn't kno-"

"We? So you started that fire?"

"Uh-"

"I thought so," I say, going in for the kill, "You're a murderer. She was innocent. What did a five-year-old ever do to you?"

"You're just as much a murderer," she says. "Don't tell me that you don't want to kill anyone."

"I don't want to kill anyone," I say, "I came in here to win and bring riches to our district, not to kill. And no, I have _not_ killed anyone."

She growls in frustration. "Fine. But I didn't come here to talk to you."

"Fine by me," I say. "I'm ready when you are."

I hold my spear in front of my body, protecting my chest and vital organs. She holds it to the side, showing that she's obviously untrained. We circle each other.

I lash out at her chest, but she swings her spear and knocks mine to the side. She tries to lunge at my open cheat. I roll to the side and use her momentum to push her to the ground. I stab at her, but she blocks and rolls out of the way. I use my spear to force hers to the side, and I ram myself into her, pushing her to the ground. With her weapon out of the way, my job is easier.

I punch her in the face, and I hear a crack as her nose breaks, spilling blood everywhere. She's gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. Sure. I don't mind. She suddenly jerks to the side and pushes me off, and I tumble into the now-cloudy water. I roll away from her. Darn. She has both spears now. At least I know she can't throw them well; she hasn't had the training. She comes closer and begins to strike at the ground. First, she grazes my leg. Then my jacket is pinned to the ground. I have to get up; this is just like spear fishing for her.

I grab her legs and give a hard yank, and she trips over me into the water. I scramble to my feet and hold her face underwater. She struggles and lets go of the spears. That's all I wanted. It takes too long to drown someone, especially someone that has been swimming all her life. She rolls away and begins to run. Here's another difference between us. I know how to throw these.

I hurl one, and it spears her in the chest. She screams as she goes down. There's no cannon, so I must've missed the heart. I walk over to her collapsed body and stab her a few more times. Her cannon booms.

Shaking, I grab my spears and step away from her body. I killed a person. And it's another person from my district. I never wanted this. Though she was mistaken, she was brave, and she deserves a good burial. I place one spear on her body and wrap her hands around it. I quickly finish filling the bottles and go back to camp.

Now I'm a murderer too.

 _ **Imperial Gallium, 18, District One Male**_

It sucks being wounded like this. It sucks knowing that I'm dying, and there's nothing to distract me from it because I can't freakin' get up or do anything. I'm just stuck here, lying on this wooden platform, waiting for death. That's literally what I've been doing all day. Now, the sun is going down, and I can't even keep watch. I look as Aria starts a fire and prepares to keep the first watch. The Capitol anthem plays, and the girl from Four is on the Fallen broadcast. Creek doesn't respond. Maybe he killed her.

Everyone else other than Aria slowly falls asleep, but I can't sleep. My whole body hurts; my stomach, my arms, my legs, everything hurts so much. Aria comes over and begins to change the bandages.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, genuinely concerned.

"Like crap," I reply, "It still-" I wince as she pushes a bit too hard. "Hurts."

"Sorry," she says, "But if I don't change the bandage, it'll-"

"I know, I know. It'll get infected."

"Yeah," she says. She finishes the rest of her work in silence. "So what do you do to pass the time?"

I laugh a grim laugh. "Nothing, really. Think about home and silently complain about life. It really does-"

"Oh please, don't think about the pain."

"You should give it a try."

She ignores that comment. "So what do you think about when you think about home?"

"My family, mostly," I say, "I think about my nephew a lot."

She smiles. "You talk about him a lot."

"But I wonder what he thinks of his uncle right now. I'm not really much of a motivational figure with my dying and everything."

"You could survive," she says.

"Not with what we have now."

"The Capitol will provide," she assures me, "We've always been loyal to it; they'll come through for us."

"I wish I had your faith."

There are a few moments of silence.

"So… How much longer do you think the games will last?" she says.

"Longer than I will-"

"Forget I asked," she says, "You can't keep this attitude. If you're convinced you're going to die, you'll slowly poison yourself."

I don't reply.

"What did you do in your free time?" she says, trying to keep the ball rolling.

I sigh and reply. "I played a lot of soccer. Watched all the games I could. My plan was to go pro if I survived, but-"

She cuts me off before I bring up death again. "That's nice. My mom was a figure skater, so she taught me to skate. I was never any good at it, though. Design was more of my thing. I want to go into Interior Design when I go home."

"You'd do a good job," I say, "You've got a natural sense of beauty."

"Thanks. I could see you playing pro soccer."

I laugh. "Really? Thanks."

"No problem. You just seem right for it."

"Seem right." The two words stick out in my thoughts like two sore thumbs. "What makes a person right for something?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Are our talents coincidences? Do you think we have a destiny?"

"I'm still confused."

"Like, a plan for our lives that was determined before we were born."

She thinks about it for a while. "I don't know. It does make sense, since we're all given different talents, but it also feels like we have a choice as to what to do with our lives."

"But if there was a plan beyond our control," I say, "Our choices would be part of that plan."

"This is all so confusing."

"Yeah," I say, "It is. I don't know why I never thought about it before."

"Maybe because you never had the time?" she suggests, "I tend to be occupied with something else, so I don't have time to think about this stuff."

"Maybe."

She doesn't say any more, but now I have another question. If this is all part of a plan, why did I get chosen to die like this?"

 _ **Gavius Pherinora, 26, Capitol Citizen**_

The girl from Four – Naia, was it? – is dead. It's for the better in my opinion. Rebels are the ones that destroy everything we work for. Last year, a group of rebels burned down one of our residential sectors. At least a hundred innocent civilians died – including my girlfriend. I swore I'd pay them back for everything they did. When I get that Gamemaker position, they'll get what they deserve.

I watch as the two tributes from One talk, and I take notes. Since I once was an aspiring author, I'm in the habit of paying special attention to human psychology. My dad originally wanted me to go into business, but I think he's accepted the fact that I make my own choices. But after the fire, I knew I had a new direction in life. Of course, I have no technical knowledge, so I'm not necessarily qualified for that form of Gamemaker. However, I do know plot and drama, and every television show – even the Hunger Games – needs that.

After Imperial falls asleep, Aria pleads with the audience to help support her and save her partner. I have the money, but I don't think I will. This is too valuable of an opportunity for observation. What happens when a person's trust in something is dashed to pieces? I can't pass up this chance; I don't get to see this every year. Our doctors predict that without help, he'll die tomorrow. I just have to wait until then.

 **Day 10**

 _ **Alder Blackthorn, 16, District Seven Male**_

It's been a few hours since the sun rose this morning, but there's no heat. The sun isn't giving off any heat. We're stuck in a cold, charred world; it looks like something out of a post-apocalyptic book.

"The end is coming soon," Star says, stating the obvious.

"The only other tributes are the ones from the Inner Alliance," Arden says, "So, let me guess. The Gamemakers are going to drive us into the alliance and we'll kill each other until the victor remains."

Star stares at Arden, her eyes blank with fear.

"What? I'm telling it as it is," Arden says, "We need to start preparing now."

Star balls her hands into fists, staring at the ground, muttering something over and over.

"Star?" I say, "Are you okay?"

She nods her head. "Yes; I- I think I am."

"Good," I say, "We're going to need you to be all in. It's three of us versus five of them. We can't afford to have anyone not giving 100%."

Arden has our backpack, and she digs through it, throwing stuff out. "Don't need this… matches are trash now… Do you think we'll need the rope?"

"It might come in handy," Star says, "Do we need to sort it out now?"

"Better now than later," Arden replies. "We don't know when we'll have to run. Here, take some crackers."

I grab one and eat it. "Save half of it," I say, "Just in case."

"Got it."

I look back up at the emotionless sun. This is only the beginning of the end.

 _ **Aemilia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

Aria's been sitting at Imperial's side all morning. Poor girl; she must really care about him. I knew that she was a nice person from the moment I saw her.

I sit down beside her. "How's he doing?" I ask.

Aria sighs. "He's okay; I think. He's sleeping now, but he's lost so much blood. I don't know if he'll make it."

"You're afraid that-"

"Don't listen to me; I'm just being silly."

"It's fine," I say, "Did you know him before you volunteered?"

"Yes – Kind of; I mean. His parents were business associates with my parents. I remember thinking that he'd be a great friend at first before realizing how serious and determined he was. And then he got to the Capitol and he became someone else."

"Someone else?"

"He wasn't the quiet wait-for-it guy anymore. He was bold and loud, and I didn't know what to do about it. But now he's all torn up and I've found that he's still the same guy inside and I- I just don't want to lose him again."

"Are you two… serious or together or something?"

"No," she says, laughing, "I probably sound like it, don't I. He's just my only piece of home left, and I'm sca-" She stops. "I'm just being silly."

"You're scared of losing him?"

She doesn't answer.

"It's normal to be scared," I say, "I'm afraid of failure. When I fail, it's like I don't know who I am anymore. I think that if I work hard enough, I can do anything, but…" I trail off.

"So when you fail, you're ashamed of not giving your all?" she says.

"Something like that."

She thinks about it for a moment. "Maybe you shouldn't base your identity off of what you can do."

It's good advice. I'll figure it out if— No, when I win. There's no room for doubt now, and there never has been. I am a Melanite, and a Melanite doesn't give anything less than all.

Suddenly, Aria lets out a cry. "Imperial!"

"What?" I say. I hear Androcles and Creek running over.

"He stopped responding! He's lost too much blood." She looks to the sky. "Please, help! He's going to die! Please!"

The cannon cuts her off, and she stands up, disbelief etched into her face.

"Aria?" Creek says. "Are you okay?"

"No," she says, backing away from Imperial's dead body. "No." She turns around and runs into the burnt forest.

"Aria!" I call, but she doesn't respond or even slow.

"Do we chase her?" Creek says.

"No," Androcles says, "We leave her. The end is coming. We can't afford to waste any time."

I watch as Aria's figure completely disappears, and it hurts ever so slightly as I whisper, "Goodbye."

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female**_

No, no, no, no. This can't be. Imperial can't be dead. What went wrong? We've served the Capitol all of our lives! What went wrong? I slow to a walk, my legs tired after running for about half an hour.

"Why?" I scream. "I did everything for you! I volunteered for you! Why?"

I'm answered by the eerie sound of silence.

I kneel at a rock and cry. Wasn't it always the deal that I serve you and do as you ask, and you protect and favor me?

"Does my loyalty mean nothing to you?" I shout. "Do you care?"

No one answers.

They don't care. Everything I did was Meaningless.

All of the sudden, the ground begins to shake. I look around frantically, and in the distance, I see dead trunks falling into nothingness.

They're destroying the arena. I don't have to be told to run. Dead, unstable trees are falling left and right as the shaking ground knocks them over. It's too fast. I hear it gaining on me. I whip my head back to see, and I immediately regret it. The dirt, trees, and everything else are falling into this huge endless pit. I'm going to fall in very soon; my legs are ready to give out.

I look back at the sky; hatred is the only thing on my mind. I close my right hand into a fist, raise it to the sky, and extend my middle finger. I have moments left before I die.

"F*** you."

The world disappears.

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

There's a cannon. I look to the bleak sky, and, Aria's face appears. They must really want to end this; this only happens during the end.

"Both Imperial and Aria are gone now," I say, "So now it's three on three. Us versus The two from Two and the guy from Four."

Alder stands up and looks at the horizon. His mouth drops in disbelief. "They- They're destroying the arena! We have to go, now!"

"Where?" Arden says, standing up and grabbing her axes.

"To the Cornucopia!" I say, "That's how they end it almost every year. Let's go!"

We take off in the rough direction of the Cornucopia, but I soon realize that we were too slow. The ground merely a hundred yards behind us is falling into the invisible chasm, and if we're not close enough, we're all going to die.

Alder and Arden are faster; they've had more training. Alder looks back at me, his face asking if he should stay behind. I motion for him to go. I'm not holding my allies back. I watch as the Sevens, far outspeeding me, run far ahead.

Alder shouts, his voice faint. The Cornucopia must be up ahead. I push myself to run harder, but the line is slowly gaining on me. The ground beneath my feet is going to collapse as I run. With my last bit of strength, I leap forward, my head and arms in the Cornucopia clearing. I barely have time to catch my breath before the ground under my legs up to my chest collapses.

I'm hanging on for dear life. Only my arms are on solid ground. I look down for a split second, and I can't see anything. I'm starting to slip; my hands can't find anything to latch onto.

A hand grabs mine and starts to help pull me up.

"Hang on!" Alder says, grabbing my other hand. I'm pushing with my elbows; he's pulling with all his might. He grunts and gives a hard tug, and I scramble onto solid ground. "Don't have time to thank me," he says. "We're at the end."

I look, and I see the remnant of the Inner Alliance, standing on the other side of the Cornucopia. I pull out my dagger.

This is the finale.

 **Eulogies:**

 _ **Naia Whyte, 18, District Four Female.**_ **Placed 9th. Submitted by chocolate chip homicide.**

 **Naia was also a very well-designed character. She was realistic for the world she lived in, and she fought for what she believed in. She was strong and capable, and people looked up to her as a leader. Amie, thanks for giving me such a beautiful character to work with, and I hope you'll be here for the rest of the ride.**

 _ **Imperial Gallium, 18, District One Male.**_ **Placed 8th. Submitted by Laenyra**

 **There was a lot of competition for the District One Male slot, but I knew that Imperial was the one from the moment I read his form. I'm sorry to say that I initially misunderstood his character, and I initially wanted him to go in a direction that wouldn't have fit. I had to change it halfway through the story, so that's why his character might seem somewhat inconsistent in some parts. Whatever happen, I dearly loved Imperial. I'll miss him.**

 _ **Aria Sierra, 17, District One Female.**_ **Placed 7th. Submitted by shadowhunter824**

 **Aria was also one of my favorites, and it hurt so much to kill her. Even though her character was initially a little weak, I hope I did a good job of making her personality stronger and more obvious as time went by. Her story arc was one of the ones I've wanted since the beginning, and I loved working with her.**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Who'll miss Naia? Thoughts? What did you like the most about her?**

 **2\. Imperial… How do your feelings about him at the time of his death compare with what you initially thought about him? Will you miss him?**

 **3\. Did anyone else love Aria? Did you expect this? What repercussions will her death have on the overall, big plot?**

 **4\. Who do you think will win?**

 **5\. Just curious, who still remembers who Mira ad Alex are? They aren't gone from the series yet; they'll appear in the future.**

 **6\. What role will Gavius play in the series?**

 **I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP, but I don't know when that will be.**

 **Love your reviews!**

 **See y'all,**

 **~Joseph**


	32. The Finale

**A/N How did I even finish this? This wasn't supposed to be done until next week. I sat down, and I somehow got on a writing spree.**

 **Thank me for this chapter. Or I will reject your tribute in the next SYOT. Just kidding. Or not.**

 **Yeah, I'm completely joking about that. Don't listen to me right now. This A/N should've ended a while ago…**

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female**_

I struggle to my feet, panting and trying to catch my breath. Alder hands me his water bottle.

"Here," he says, "But hurry up. We don't have time."

Arden stands, watching as the Inner Alliance gets closer. "We have to move forward. They'll corner us at the edge."

I look back towards that huge void of nothingness. Time to move on.

"Before we go," Alder says, "I just wanted to say that it's been my honor to fight beside both of you. "

"Thanks," I say, "It's been nice getting to know y'all."

Arden doesn't say anything.

"Than," Alder says, "Let's go."

We meet the Inner Alliance on our side of the Cornucopia, a little closer to the edge than I would like. I'm immediately up against the guy from Four with his spear. He holds it in front of his body, rendering my spear useless. I only have this one dagger; I can't throw it at him. He sees the same thing and moves closer to me, smiling. I can't keep moving back or I'll fall over the edge. I'll have to charge. Without giving him any warning, I charge at him from the side. He hits me in the head with the rod of the spear, but I press on. I stab him in the arm, and he lets out a cry. I yank out the knife, and I barely have time to gather my wits before I roll out of the way of his spear. That worked once, but I know that it won't work again. He's expecting it now. I can't win against him; he'll hold me off until I'm tired and then come in for the kill. It doesn't help that my legs are still sore.

Creek continues to force me back, this time towards Androcles, who's facing Alder. Something's wrong. Alder is now unarmed, barely able to dodge the older boy's swings. I know I can't win this, but maybe Alder can. I sprint towards Androcles and stab him in the back, and then my whole body screams. I look down to see Creek's thrown spear. I've lost all power in my legs, and I hit the ground. I look up. Alder now has one of his axes back.

It was worth it.

 _ **Creek Langston, 18 District Four Male**_

As the girl from Ten stabs Androcles, I hurl my spear. It skewers her in the upper abdomen, and she falls to the ground. Androcles is now on the defensive, pushing on despite his injury. I move closer to the two, and I see Alder beginning to panic.

"Loop around the back," Androcles whispers to me when I come up beside him. I slowly circle Alder, continuing until I'm right behind him.

Aemilia's having some trouble with Arden, who's pushing her backward towards us. Aemilia swings at her, but she dodges. Aemilia's now almost shoulder-to-shoulder with her district partner, and their shoulder's bump. Aemilia stabs backward. Androcles jumps to the side, but she still hits a chunk of his waist. He screams, and I can see the terror on her face as she realizes what just happened.

Alder charges me, now that Androcles is wounded, and I position my spear in front of me. Without missing a beat, he swings his ax, cutting the spear in half. I don't have time to react before he tackles me to the ground. I scream as he slams his ax into my chest. There's a brief flash of pain as I feel everything inside my chest breaking into pieces.

Then it's all over.

 _ **Androcles Diorite, 17, District Two Male**_

"Loop around the back," I whisper to Creek as he comes to my side. I need this help. My body aches from the knife in my back, and without help, I'm going down. He nods and loops around. The boy from Seven is stuck between us now; we should have no problem taking him down.

All of a sudden, someone bumps into me. I whip my head around, and I leap back to avoid Aemilia's stab. It still hits, and I grunt as she yanks her sword out of my abdomen. It only hit the side, but it still hurts like h***. "What the **** was that for?" I hiss.

She doesn't reply. I turn around. Creek is on the ground, screaming as the boy from Seven brings his ax down on Creek's chest. The cannon sounds. I grip my ax tightly. Throw it, and it's over for him. I raise it, but he charges me. It's too late to throw. I slam the ax down, and it hits the side of his foot, slicing off a piece of flesh. He screams, but that won't stop him. I'm tackled to the ground, losing my ax, and he tries to get a good hold on me. I free my right hand and punch him in the face, losing his hold on me. I break his grip on the ax, and I toss it away. It's too risky to use it right now. I roll him over, and he rolls over again. We're only about five feet away from the edge. It's way too close for comfort. But maybe I could use this to my advantage…

I push myself away from him and stagger to my feet. He has a bit more trouble with his foot. I shove him back, and his eyes light up. He knows what's going on. He pulls me down with him, and before I can do anything, he rolls me over the edge.

I look at the nothingness under me and take a deep breath. I'm not done yet. I hold on tightly to the first thing I can grab – his shirt. When I feel my hands slipping, I grab his right leg. He shouts as his body falls over the edge. Only his arms and hands are still on. If I'm dying, he's going down with me. I see the girls' shadows nearing. Aemilia will push us over the edge; I'm sure of it.

I know my life is ending, but I also know that I've shown that Androcles Diorite never gives up.

And that is an honor in itself.

 _ **Aemelia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

I dodge another one of Arden's swings and return with a blow to her side. Agile as she is, she evades it with ease. I can't remember last time I fought someone so hard. She may not be as skilled as the trainers at home, but there's nothing like the possibility of imminent death to bring out the strength in a person. She doesn't want to die; she has more motivation than anyone at home. Maybe except for Androcles. I don't know anyone as determined as Androcles.

Androcles. I wounded him; I probably wrote his death with that stab. Why was I so stupid? I grunt as I dodge another blow. It's my fault that he's down or dead. I take a few steps back and look around for any sign of the boys. Both are gone. Arden charges; I evade. Where are they?

I hear a shout from the edge. Both Arden and I turn to look. I only see two arms, clawing at the ground, trying to keep the body from falling.

"Break!" Arden calls, "Please. On your honor."

"Sure," I say.

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now you swear it too," I say.

"I swear I won't attack… unless you kill someone."

"Deal," I say. She's smart.

She rushes to the edge, and I follow her, standing behind her. I try to see, but I can't get in a position to see without being precariously close to falling off. District Two knows honor, but I don't know anything about the Sevens.

"Alder!" she says.

"Please… I… can't hold on… much longer," Alder's voice answers.

"Shake him off!" Arden says. Shake him off?

"I can't! I… tried."

"Let me see!" I say, pushing Arden to the side. I'm not going to kill her; I made a promise.

I poke my head past the edge.

"Oh… gosh…" I gasp. Alder in hanging on for dear life… and Androcles holds on to his legs, refusing to let go, dangling in the air. I try not to focus on the darkness below. "Androcles… What have I done?"

This is all my fault. If I hadn't wounded him, he wouldn't have been so easily defeated. It's a miracle he was able to grab the enemy before he plummeted to his death. That's Androcles, always persevering, never giving up.

But the end is here. Do I help both of them back up? Arden and I could do it. I look to her, and she looks back and forth between my eyes and her partner's hands. We could save both of them.

Or I could push them off. Leave only me and Arden. I could do that too; all three of them have to die if I am to win. I look back to Androcles, and his eyes meet mine.

 _Do it_ , he pleads.

"I- I can't," I say, "I don't… I don't kill my allies." I can't. I'll be failing my district. Before we volunteered, both Androcles and I swore to work together and protect each other until only we were left. It's District Two's legacy; it began sometime in the 800s. But if I save him, I'll be failing Androcles. He's asking me to push both of them off.

"C'mon," Arden says, trying to hold herself together. "We can pull them up."

"Don't!" a hoarse voice shouts, "Push us off, now. We go down together." Oh, Androcles…

I can't decide. Do I save them and do what's deemed right by my district and my conscience, or do I do what it takes to win? If I save them, the Sevens have the advantage. Alder is in much better condition than Androcles.

"No!" I shout, squeezing my eyes shut, "Stop it! Stop making me decide!"

I look down at them again. Androcles pleads with me once again. Arden is calling for me.

I take a deep breath and kick Alder's hands as hard as I can. He screams as he loses his grip and falls.

I think I hear a thank you.

 _ **Arden Caville, 18, District Seven Female**_

Everything I once thought has been dashed to pieces. This world isn't just full of people trying to survive. There still are people with kindness in their hearts; there are people that will look out for others. But this person standing before me – no, she isn't human – is completely evil.

"You monster!" I scream, lunging for her. "How could you?"

She scrambles away from the edge and picks up her sword. I grab my ax.

"You deserve to die," I growl, "You are not escaping this arena."

She doesn't reply. Of course she doesn't; she doesn't care. Not one tiny bit. I lunge at her, but she takes a few steps back. Angus… Star… Alder… I'm winning this for you. You died showing me how to live, and I won't forget that.

She swings; I dodge. The ax isn't suited to blocking. She goes for my neck; I deflect her sword. I poke at her, forcing her into becoming defensive. I fake a swing to her right arm; she falls for it. They don't teach that in District Two. I spin and wedge my ax into her left thigh. I hear a snap and the blade hits something hard, probably bone, and goes right through it. She screams and I push her back. Her left leg is completely severed, and she falls, pulling me down with her. I pry her hands off of me and bring the ax down, right below the chest. One more blow and she's dead. I could leave her alone and she'd bleed to death within a minute or so.

Alder, you are avenged.

Then cold steel rips through my abdomen.

 _ **Aemilia Melanite, 18, District Two Female**_

I'm bleeding rapidly, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you have the fight in you until your last breath is gone. I had thrust my sword into her as she tried to get back up, and now, I unsuccessfully try to pull it out. I end up widening the wound. She falls on me, her ax falling from her hand. I grab it and lift it up. It feels heavier than anything I've ever lifted in my life; I'm dying too. Everything is beginning to swim. I need to just drop the ax; just drop it.

But everything goes black.

 **Eulogies:**

 _ **Star Vexbleuten, 17, District Ten Female.**_ **Placed 6th. Submitted by RedRoses100**

 **I originally didn't like Star much. Her back-story wasn't something I liked in a tribute, and she felt one-dimensional. However, as I began to write her character, I began to like her. I tried my hardest to bring her personality out from her back-story, and I think I succeeded – How many of you still remember her backstory? Thank you for a great tribute, and may she rest in peace. Angus must've rubbed off on her.**

 _ **Creek Langston, 18, District Four Male.**_ **Placed 5th. Submitted by IVolunteerAsAuthor**

 **Creek was always one of my favorite characters. I've always had something for Capitol supporters, and he was no exception. I loved how he was almost a male, Capitol-loving version of Naia, and he was the perfect contrast for her. At one point, I considered him for victor, but as you can see, he didn't make the cut. Thanks, Caleb, for Creek. Now that I think about it, I don't know if you ever gave me a full, comprehensive form for him…**

 _ **Androcles Diorite, 17, District Two Male.**_ **Placed 4th. Submitted by Skyflapple**

 **Just to clarify, Androcles died before Alder because he was farther down. I also really liked Androcles. I don't think I did the best job making him stand out, but I tried to show that though he was just as determined as a regular volunteer from Two, he wasn't the average guy. He was even destined to make it far in early versions of the plot, and in one of them, he was in the final two. Thank you for Androcles.**

 _ **Alder Blackthorn, 16, District Seven Male**_ **. Placed 3rd. Submitted by DecidedlyDestiel**

 **I liked Alder from the moment I saw his form. He was a kind, stoic, hard-working boy that wanted to do his fair share of work in the world, and if he were from District Ten, he could've passed for a tribute I created. Thanks, DecidedlyDestiel (Can I have a name to call you?). You're the only person that's stuck with me since Equal Chances, and I can say without a doubt that you're my most loyal reader. Thank you, and I'm really sorry. I feel bad for not giving you a victor now…**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. Who will you miss the most?**

 **2\. Do my thoughts on the tributes surprise you? For the record, the eulogies are 100% true. I don't lie or sugarcoat.**

 **3\. Who do you think won, Aemilia or Arden? Keep in mind that Aemilia is rapidly bleeding to death and that though Arden has the advantage of being less hurt, Aemilia has the weapon (though she may or may not have used it). So the question is, did Aemilia bleed to death or was she able to kill Arden?**

 **4\. Who do you want to win? Is there a difference? Why/Why not?**

 **5\. Will you submit to my next SYOT?**

 **The next chapter should be up within two weeks.**

 **Also, Alder didn't get a POV because he has had more POVs than everyone else (before this chappie).**

 **See y'all! Love your reviews!**

 **~Joseph**


	33. The End

**A/N Aye… Here's a short chapter. It's only supposed to be a short conclusion to the story.**

 _ **Aemilia Concordia Melanite, 18, District Two Female Victor**_

I slowly open my eyes. Open my eyes? I'm alive? The bright white light from above forces me to squeeze them shut again.

"You're finally awake."

"Huh?" I say, opening my eyes and sitting up.

My mentor, Isadora Ferrum, sits on a chair against the wall. "It's been a few days since you won."

"I- I won?"

"Of course you did! You wouldn't be here if you didn't, idiot."

"H- How?..." I mumble. What did happen? Last thing I remember… I don't really remember. I just know I blacked out.

She sighs. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't remember." She mumbles something about my generation, always forgetting things, and I smile. She never means these things seriously. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh…" I rack my brain, trying to pick out bits of information. "The axe. It was heavy. I lifted it up… Everything else is blank."

"Oh… Okay. The girl from Seven collapsed on you, and when you blanked out, the axe came down on her neck. You were pulled out of there so fast; they were afraid you were dead too."

What? "Can I have some time?" I ask.

"Sure thing," she says, "I needed a bit of time after my Games. Holler if you need anything." She leaves this white, sterile room and closes the door with a bang.

What happened again?

I close my eyes, and everything comes flooding back in. The girl from Ten fell first, and then Creek died. I stabbed Androcles…

I stabbed him. This is my fault. He wouldn't have lost to the bastard from Seven if I hadn't wounded him. I broke my promise to protect him until the end. I failed. And then I pushed him off the edge. I killed him. In the statistics, I was given the kill for Androcles' death. I failed.

Not only did I fail him and my District, I failed my family. I volunteered to bring honor to my family and to continue my grandfather's legacy of honor. But what did I do? Kill my district partner before the final two and win by accident. This isn't honor. This isn't what District Two stands for. This is not what a Melanite does.

I failed. I am nothing. This victory; it means nothing.

Victory is meaningless.

 _ **Alexander Sierra, 16, Brother of the Aria Sierra**_

I stand in her room, but she isn't here. The walls feel empty; the desk is devoid of her writing. The bed is perfectly made as if it were never used. The perfectly clean room taunts me, reminding me that she doesn't live here anymore. She's gone.

A wave of anger washes over me, and I stomp out of the room and slam the door. It looks like her room; it seems like her room, but it's not her room anymore. I'll never have any more late night conversations with her. I'll never hear her sing again. She told me that she wouldn't sing in the Games, even though she was musical. "I want it to be something only between us," she had said, "Not something shared with the world."

I had laughed at it then, but now, it makes more sense, even more than she intended it to. I always thought that the Capitol was generous and kind, but what kind of person ignores their friend's plea for help? She was the model citizen: Loyal, Talented, and Smart, but they ignored her and turned their backs on her.

Capitol, you don't deserve anything from me. We gave you our all, and you gave us nothing but empty promises. Mark my words, there will come a day when you'll look for our help and you won't get it.

And you'll deserve every bit of it.

 **Eulogy:**

 _ **Arden Caville, 18, District Seven Female.**_ **Placed 2nd. Submitted by LokiThisIsMadness**

 **Arden was perfect victor material. She had the same claim to victor, and there was a point where I seriously considered letting her win and changing the entire series for her. Alas, that did not happen. At first, she was my least favorite out of the four Outer District Trained tributes, but she soon found her way into my heart. I really do like Arden. She was a perfectly designed tribute, and I hope I did her justice.**

 **Aaaanndddd...**

 **Victor:**

 ** _Aemilia Concordia Melanite, 18, District Two Female._ Victor. Submitted by Guest 1. **

**I know, she's a Career girl, but that has nothing to do with why she won. I knew wanted a victor from the Inner Alliance because I wated this story to revolve around the idea of victory being meaningless, and she just happened to be the perfect one. As I said before, I once considered Creek (Who I absolutely LOVE), but after rereading the forms, Aemilia was more suitable. Her form screamed VICTOR to me, and I loved playing with the choices she had to make. She was a great character, standard for the Ecclesiastes-verse but with enough details to make her unique. She'll definitely be playing a role in future stories, so keep an eye out for her!**

 **Questions:**

 **1\. How do you feel about the story ending?**

 **2\. Where will the overall plot go from here?**

 **3\. What could I have done better?**

 **4\. Is who Alex is coming back to y'all now?**

 **A/N Aaaaaand Meaningless is now complete. Thank you to everyone that submitted/followed/favorited/reviewed! It means so much to me!**

 **Also, submissions for the next story,** _ **Under the Sun**_ **, are open! The story is up, and I can't wait to see all the submissions!**

 **See you there!**

 **~Joseph**


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